The Secret to My Heart
by Manhattanite
Summary: Bering & Wells AU (no, not that one ... yet). Based on a suggestion by lonely-night. Thanks to her for letting me borrow it and for CdB55 for reposting the idea. AU: Myka is a Secret Service Agent; Helena is a Medical Examiner (No Warehouse).
1. Dead Wrong

**Dead Wrong**

* * *

If there was one thing that defined Myka Bering; Secret Service Agent, it was discipline. There wasn't a paragraph; no, make that sentence; in the department's manual that she didn't know. Of course, she did have an eidetic memory that aided her in that feat. Still, no one on the force seemed to live, breathe and demonstrate the rules quite like Agent Bering.

Of course, that was all before she went to New York.

"Bering, you'll be in Manhattan three days before the President arrives. We need to make sure that everything is in place. And given your short romance with medicine, I decided you'd be perfect to check out the medical team. You don't have any issue with that, do you?" her superior asked. No one could seem to let go of the fact that Myka had been prelaw and premed in college.

"No, ma'am," Myka said, standing practically at attention.

"I want the background of every member of that team checked and I want them interviewed. Never really liked doctors myself," the woman revealed in a rare moment of self-disclosure.

"Is that true, ma'am?" Myka asked.

"Yeah, I don't trust them," the woman summed it up and stopped. "Just make sure we have the best team available to us. And let's pray we don't need them."

"Yes, ma'am," Agent Bering said and nodded as she left the room.

* * *

"Going to New York?" her fellow agent and partner asked.

"Yes, Lattimer. Are you?" Myka asked.

"Indeed I am," the more relaxed of the duo said. "Seems they need a handsome, dashing, man-about-town to help interview the medical staff. You know, pretty nurses, doctors who are good with their hands," he fantasized waving his hands.

"Lattimer!" Myka called him back to attention. "I hope one of them is a psychiatrist," she moaned as they readied for their trip.

* * *

A few hours later, the agents arrived in the heart of Manhattan and settled into their hotel. Given the budget on which they traveled, it didn't surprise Myka that the hotel was a two star on its best day. What did surprise her was that there was only one room available.

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no!" Myka declared at the front desk.

"I'm sorry Ms. Bering. Your agency specifically asked for one room. We're totally booked," the man apologized.

"Please tell me there are two…," Myka had her eyes closed when he informed her that the room had a king size bed.

"Oh, Jesus," Myka said, bowing her head.

"Myks," Pete said, trying to get her to look on the bright side. "Chances are I won't even be here after interrogating all those nurses; if you get my drift," he said in a low sing-song voice.

"Interview, Pete. Not _interrogate_ ," Myka clarified.

"Whatever," Pete said and took the card key for the room. "We're good," he informed the man at the desk.

The first thing Myka did was to divide the bed in half. She took the pillows and lined them up from top to bottom of the bed down the middle.

"Your side; my side," she informed her partner.

"I can't even see over…," he noted and Myka told him that was the point.

* * *

Pete was anxiously awaiting the opportunity to interview the medical team. "Got your questions?" he asked as he and his hotel-mate were riding up in the elevator at the hospital.

Myka pulled on her aviator glasses and looked over them at him; casting him a look. "Oh, right – that photogenic memory thing," he said incorrectly.

When they arrived on the hospital floor, they were greeted by the woman who ran the entire hospital. Dr. Warren was a friendly, warm person who had everything ready for the agents.

"I have a list of the staff that would be ready, should any emergency arise," she assured them, handing them the list of candidates. "And then these are their resumes."

Pete grabbed his list and quickly looked down it "I'll take this one, that one, this one, those two," he ticked off as he read the obvious female names. "Medical examiner? Is that the guy who deals with dead people?"

The woman in charge cleared her throat as Myka smiled uncomfortably at her partner's blunt question. "Yes, Agent Lattimer, Dr. Wells is the coroner."

"He deals with dead people," Pete repeated. "You know, I read once, that those people go into that, because let's face it, who wants to deal with dead people? Because they're not good with the living." He looked at Myka's wide-eyed expression and the Head Doctor's stunned look. "I just read that… once."

"I'll take Doctor Wells," Myka smiled to save them any more embarrassment.

"I'm sure Doctor Wells will be greatly relieved," Doctor Warren said. "Shall we?" she got up and motioned for the agents to join her so they could conduct their interviews.

* * *

"I don't mind telling you, partner," Pete whispered to Myka and tried to continue, but she put her hand up in the air.

"If you think I want to hear about you and your hospital fantasies, you're mistaken," Myka informed him.

"Oh," Pete said, disappointed. He had quite a few to choose from. "Okay," he said, looking at his list. "I have Leslie Manning," he smiled, looking for the prettiest nurse in the room. "Leslie?" he called out.

"How you doing?" said a six-foot strapping man. He smiled when he saw the hesitation in the Secret Service Agent's face. "Not what you were expecting?"

"No! I mean, yeah, no problem," Pete said and then looked down the list. He turned away and pulled his partner closer. "Myka, I changed my mind. Give me the dude who deals with the dead."

"What? No!" Myka said, annoyed at her partner's lack of seriousness about their mission.

"Come on, Myka," Pete pleaded. She actually thought it over because the man could whine up a storm and truthfully, it made no difference to her.

But then, Doctor Wells walked into the room.

"Holy crap! That's Doctor Wells?" Pete asked and tried to grab the paper from Myka's hand. "I'll take..."

"Fine!" Myka said, not wanting her partner to make a scene. She switched resumes with him.

Pete all but ran to the medical examiner's side. "Agent Pete Lattimer," he introduced himself, as Myka looked over Nurse Manning's qualifications.

Then, she heard the doctor speak. It was the sultriest voice she had ever heard, wrapped in the most exquisite British accent. Myka's head shot up immediately to look and was embarrassed when she noticed Dr. Wells was already staring at her.

"Thank you, Agent Lattimer," Doctor Wells said slowly, "…but I was rather hoping to work with Agent Bering. You see, I've done my homework on you, too," she continued, but was looking at Myka. "And Agent Bering was premed in college. I think she's a better fit to interview me," the doctor concluded.

Myka felt as if she were suddenly in suspended animation under the stranger's gaze. She was feet away from Myka, and yet, she felt warmness radiate throughout her exterior. The woman had just reduced her to stammering as she tried to collect her thoughts. "Shhhure," Myka said, trying to act nonchalant, dragging the word out. "I can do that."

Myka was almost certain she heard the doctor reply; "Oh, I'm certain you can."

"Fine," Pete said, switching resumes again. "Let's go, Les-lie."

"Why don't we go to my office," Doctor Wells suggested and Myka nodded her head.

Then, the woman in the white coat turned, her dark hair swishing as she did, and led the agent down the hallway to her office. Myka was so busy staring, that it took her a second to catch up.

"Please come in," Doctor Wells smiled as she ushered Agent Bering inside. She sat down in a leather chair, across from a second chair that Myka took. Myka caught long legs crossing over slowly as the doctor settled back.

"Okay," Myka said, noticing her hands seems to have the slightest tremor that she prayed was not noticeable. "Let's begin," Myka cleared her throat and picked up the doctor's curriculum vitae.

"Oh, yes, let's," Doctor Wells smiled and waited for the Agent to begin her questions.

The Agent in charge didn't know it yet, but Doctor Wells had already decided that this interview would be best conducted… over dinner.


	2. Reputations

**Reputations**

* * *

Myka _might_ have thought that her first interview was going to go smoothly because the doctor seemed so cooperative. She had no way of knowing that when Doctor Wells was first informed of the Secret Service interviews, she was the loudest protester in the room.

"I don't have time for this," said the busiest coroner in all of New York City. "I will email them our protocol."

"As Chief Medical Examiner…," Chief of Staff Nielsen was about to remind the woman.

"Arthur, should someone die while they're visiting our great city, I will be there. I do not need to have my credentials scrutinized by some anal-type government employee. It's not like there are a dozen of me," the woman pointed out. "Surgeons, yes; Chief Medical Examiners, no."

He was still pointing out that it was protocol when she walked out of the room.

What changed the woman's mind was her own research. She was sitting have her afternoon tea; _a ritual she informed her staff that would not change, no matter the body waiting for her_ , when an email arrived. It was notifying her of the schedule of interviews. She was about to delete it when she noticed the agents' names. Curiosity got the better of her and she looked up their biographies.

"Wrestling team?" she uttered, reading the first one's resume. "Neanderthal." Then, she happened upon the second agent's background. "Fencing? Now, there's a sport," she uttered and continued reading. "Premed, prelaw. No attention span, this one," she criticized until she saw Myka's picture. Something softened in the doctor. There was something in the picture that made her smile. She wasn't even sure what it was, but she decided she'd agree to the interview. But, only by this agent.

* * *

Now, Myka sat across from her, leather portfolio opened and in her lap. "You have quite an impressive background," Myka said, her pen tapping on the paper, a nervous habit she had since grade school.

Long ivory legs crossed over in front of Myka and pushed open the white lab coat. "I'm excellent at what I do," the doctor smiled and her honey warm voice made Myka unconsciously squeeze the pen.

Myka's analytical brain wanted to write down ' _full of herself,_ ' but didn't. She doubted she'd forget. "Doctor Wells, could you take me through what procedure you would have in place in the case of the President's death?" the agent asked matter of factly.

"Of course," smiled the doctor. "If it were to be of natural causes, I would visit the scene and announce time of death. If it were by assassination, I would wait here for the body to be brought to me," the coroner said calmly. "Either way, I assure you, he would be in the very best of hands."

Myka watched as the coroner displayed her open hands.

"And your team?" Myka asked, trying not to look directly at the woman. There was something in the gaze she returned that unnerved Myka.

"I have several, actually," the doctor informed Myka and decided to test the waters. "I thought you'd know that," she said, seeing if she could shake the agent.

"I meant the team you would handpick for such an event," Myka countered and the coroner liked that. She smiled and sat back in her chair, putting her hands on the leather sides.

"Call me Helena, please," Helena smiled.

It wasn't the dark eyes that smiled back at her that threw Myka; it was that she was experiencing distraction; something she never allowed on the job. Ever.

"Your team, Doctor Wells?" Myka repeated in the silence that fell between them.

But her interviewee was trained in somatic responses and she could see the flush rise in the agent's cheeks. She was either intriguing her or annoying her. She decided to press on to see which it was.

"Oh, bullock's," the doctor exclaimed when an alarm went off on her phone. It had been present in case the interview was boring.

"Somebody needs you?" Myka asked to be polite.

"A… _body_ … needs me," Helena smiled. "I'll be tied up all afternoon with this one. Do you think… I mean… would it be possible to continue this later?"

"Later? Of course, I have other interviews…," Myka was saying as she flipped through the other bios.

"Over dinner, then?" Helena said smiling, standing up.

"Oh, I thought…," Myka hesitated, closed her book and rose from the seat.

"You do eat, don't you, Agent Bering?" the doctor smiled and extended her hand.

Myka looked down at the ivory skin that was in front of her. It was almost as if she were afraid to touch it. Myka drew a deep breath first and told herself she had nothing to be nervous about. "Sure, yes, okay then." She shook Helena's hand vigorously and then stopped.

"Eight o'clock?" Helena said as if she didn't have this plan already thought through. Myka had stopped shaking her hand, but she hadn't let go. "I will text you the address?" the doctor smiled, never once pulling her hand away from Myka's grip.

"Oh, sure, yes," Myka said again and realized it was _she_ who hadn't let go. "Sorry," she blurted out when she released Helena's hand.

"Absolutely my pleasure," Helena smiled as she watched the agent back into the chair and then move around it to leave.

* * *

"Geesus!" Myka said, once she was safely on the other side of the door. "Nice one, Bering," she chastised herself.

"What happened to you?" Pete asked, coming around the corner.

"What? Nothing," Myka protested.

"You look all…," Pete said, making a swirling motion around his face with his finger.

"It was very warm in there," Myka said, looking back at the office she had just exited.

"Huh," Pete thought through. "You'd think the coroner would keep things cold; like freezing."

"Not her office, apparently," Myka surmised.

"Well, it turns out," Pete said proudly, "… that I dodged a bullet by letting you take the coroner."

"Yeah?" asked Myka, suddenly very thirsty. "How do you figure that?"

"Because your candidate is a control freak and mine is a huge football fan. Leslie's going to a bar tonight to watch the game. I'm thinking of going."

"Are we authorized to socialize with the staff?" Myka wondered out loud and Pete thought she was just being her usual stick in the mud.

"Myka, please – we're practically done here. We have two more full days. What's the harm in having a little fun?"

It was the first time that Pete presented that argument that Myka didn't counter it. "What do you mean control freak?" she went back to instead.

"Oh, yeah, the staff was talking about it. Has to have things her way, very demanding. You would think they'd be nice cause they're dealing with the dead, right?"

Myka stared at her partner. There was a lot of theories he had that she didn't understand, but that one, took the cake. Myka went about her other staff interviews that afternoon, as did Pete.

"Hey, why don't you come with us. I promise not to throw the cokes back to hard if you come," Pete offered.

"No, I'm actually going to finish up work," Myka said, but hesitated to say exactly where she was conducting the interview.


	3. Slip of the Tongue

**Slip of the Tongue**

* * *

The reputation that preceded Helena Wells was that her incision skills in the morgue were secondary to her ability to cut a person down to size. She was brilliant, intimidating when she wanted to be, and a loner. People assumed she chose that area of medicine because she wasn't good with people, but they were dead wrong. Working in the morgue gave Helena time to do what she really loved. You see, Helena Wells always had a pension for inventing. Half the equipment she used in her lab were her inventions; things that were used wide and far in the medical field – even on the living. For Doctor Wells, it seemed to come naturally. After all, she came from a long line of inventors.

* * *

Myka was now doing two things she detested; lying and being unable to figure out her anxiousness. Agent Bering was an A-type personality who analyzed everything down to its smallest cause. If she felt nervous, she sat down and listed all the things that might be causing it. Then, she gave herself a good talking to; often explaining the irrationality of her fear. Then, she'd take a deep breath until she felt better. Somehow, that wasn't working for her. There was simply nothing she could think of that might cause her to feel so off kilter. In fact, the only thing that came to mind was Dr. Wells, and she had been quite charming.

* * *

Back in the hotel room that they had to share, Myka watched Pete get ready for his night out.

"So, you sure you don't want to come watch the game?" he asked again to relieve his own guilt. "I could stay." He started to drop his towel and thought better of it. He motioned for Myka to turn around, as if he really needed to. She already had her back to him.

"No! I mean, no it's fine. I might actually, you know, just…," Myka said, pointing to the bathroom where he just emerged.

"You have to go?" Pete guessed.

"No, I …," Myka said, and didn't realize she was now twirling her hair.

"You can turn around. Hey, how did your interview go with the morgue doctor?" he asked as he serious lost interest in Myka's plans.

"Oh!" Myka uttered and now guilt bubbled up inside. "It went… you know. Okay, look. She got called away and suggested we meet later to finish. So, that's what I'm doing." She stood there defiant, as if Pete twisted the truth out of her.

"Okay, well, good luck with that," he said, still thinking he had the better deal. "Not sure I could watch that woman eat steak," he thought out loud.

"Shut up, Lattimer," Myka yelled, not needing anything else to think about.

"Well, I'll see you later," Pete said as he gathered his wallet and glasses. And no stealing covers later," he reminded her.

"You don't have any covers," she smirked because she had put them on her side.

"You might want to rethink that one, Bering. I sleep in the buff," he warned.

The door slammed and Myka looked back at the bed. "Are you kidding me?" she asked, but her partner was long gone. She took the blanket and hesitated only a minute before tossing it on his side of the pillow divided bed.

* * *

An hour later, Myka had freshened up which meant she brushed her hair and teeth and applied a new coat of lip gloss. She looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. She hadn't brought any clothes to go out in. "Well, it is still work," she said, trying to bolster her confidence. She secretly wished the doctor would show up in a white lab coat.

Myka walked into the restaurant at the location that Helena had texted her. The message ended with – ' _Looking forward to seeing you_ ,' which Myka took as odd. No one likes being interviewed by the Secret Service.

"Agent Bering," Helena said, standing when Myka approached the table. "Please forgive me for not ordering you a drink, but I didn't know if you're considered on duty or not. Please say not," the doctor smiled and Myka stared for a second.

In fact, it was more than a second. This woman oozed charm, Myka thought, and there was something about all of it that stopped her immediately. Myka took in the whole picture - Helena standing there in a black dress that hugged her shape and her hair just seemed to flow over her shoulders in perfect order.

"I don't suppose you could lose that accent," Myka blurted out because her brain calculated what percentage of the doctor's charisma was attributed to it.

"I beg your pardon?" Helena said, because she was truly confused by the statement.

So was Myka.

"Oh, gosh, sorry. I… I… water is fine," Myka smiled, hoping her host and the waiter would forget what she just said. "Thank you," she said as the waiter held the chair and promised to be right back with her choice of drink.

"So, you are on duty," Helena concluded.

"Well, I do have to interview you, so yes," Myka said and put the white napkin on her lap.

"This should help a great deal," Helena said and pulled out a folder from her pocketbook and put it on the table. "I've taken the liberty of sending a copy to your email, as well. It outlines the procedures and the staff that would be on duty, in such an event. Their bios are also enclosed and I assure you, there isn't one member on that team with less than five years' experience. Behind each of their resumes is the bio of their backup, should they be unable to perform their duties for some reason."

The doctor smiled as she pushed the folder across the table.

"Oh," Myka said and looked through the papers. "Of course…," she began to say when her host interrupted her.

"Each of these staff members will be available to you tomorrow morning. I've set up a temporary _schedule_."

Myka stared at the lips that just uttered the word without the American 'k' sound. "I love the way you say that," was the second thing that Myka's brain let loose. The rose wine Helena was drinking paled in comparison to the heat in Myka's cheeks.

"Thank you," Helena smiled.

"I…just," Myka said, looking away now, "…I've always loved British accents. It's sort of an American thing," she explained, hoping not to single herself out.

"Don't be fooled, Agent Bering. We're actually working undercover. We're hoping to charm you with our accents so we can steal back the colonies," Helena teased. The doctor was just realizing what few people took the time to understand; Myka Bering radiated when she smiled. Certainly, most people at her job never got to see that.

The waiter presented the menus and the two women made their selections. Myka chose a pasta and chicken dish and Helena immediately changed her mind and ordered the same. She wanted to know this woman better and she was willing to start with food.

* * *

"Tell me what your concerns are," Helena smiled from across the table.

Myka's eyes belied her words when she started to talk about work. Helena could see interest in those green orbs that had little to do with how prepared Helena would be in case of an emergency. "I guess you're used to worst case scenario because of what you do," Myka said.

"Yes, that's true," Helena said, putting down her fork. "Many think that any attempt to save a life is far over by the time the body reaches us," the doctor said and Myka could tell how sincere she was. "But I like to think that we are also in the business of saving a life, by treating the body with dignity and finding the answers no one else can find. Sometimes, Agent Bering, we're part of the last chapter of someone's life. And just like the ending of any story, we try to bring the closure the loved ones need."

Helena spoke so sincerely and with great emotion, that Myka knew this was the woman who should be present should anything happen to the President.

"Wow, I've never met anyone who put it that way," Myka said, staring at her host.

"Well, Myka, you've never met anyone like me," Helena smiled and there was a discernible twinkle in the woman's eyes.

* * *

Helena lost count how many times her responses left her guest staring and without a retort. "Tell me, Agent Bering; did you always want to be a Secret Service agent?"

Myka smiled and wiped her mouth with the napkin. "Truth be told, no," Myka said, taking a drink of water. "I wanted to be a writer growing up. My parents owned a bookstore so I grew up around books. Then, I wanted to be a doctor. Then, a lawyer. But I think it was always about wanting to right the wrongs, I guess."

Helena leaned on her hands as she watched Myka talk. It was so much easier to tell what a person was really thinking when they had light eyes, the doctor thought. It was easier to see the pupils dilate. "Sounds to me like you have many talents," Helena smiled over those hands right at Myka.

Again, the agent found her mouth opening to speak, but no words formed. "Yes," she finally said to be polite, but immediately worried she sounded conceited. "I mean, I couldn't make up my mind."

"Well, I think you must have made the right choice because you're very good at what you do," Helena said and leaned back in her chair.

"Well, I have my good days," Myka smiled, and was about to suggest that maybe Helena could call her by her first name, when she heard -

"Six awards? Outstanding duty medal three years in a row?" Helena noted in a very British tone of voice. "I dare say that certainly qualifies as the right choice."

Myka stared back at the compliment. "How did you know… about that?" the interviewer asked.

"I told you, Agent Bering; I like to know who I'm dealing with. I don't waste my time with amateurs, so I did my research," the doctor explained.

Something about that whole sentence bothered Myka. It made her feel as if Dr. Wells forgot the seriousness nature of this interview. Myka was doing the interviewing and yet, she felt as if she was the one being checked out.

 _Remember the part about how seriously Myka took her job?_

"Doctor Wells, no matter what you found in your so called research, you would still have to answer my questions," Myka said, very seriously. She suddenly felt as if a light was shining on the table and everything she didn't want to see, was now glaring. She had ignored her instincts about this dinner, and this was the price she was paying – Doctor Wells thought she was easy going.

Across the table, Helena was going through her own crisis. The woman detested two things in this world; cold tea and being pushed. She responded poorly to both. Now that she didn't want to push back, it was Helena who fell silent. Her brain was scrambling for what one actually did in a situation like this. So far, it was coming up empty.

"Thank you for dinner, Doctor Wells," Myka said annoyed as she stood up. I would appreciate it if you would tell me what my half is so I can reimburse you tomorrow. I will look through the documents you provided and get back to you first thing in the morning with the times I want to interview the staff," Myka declared.

Helena's eyes darted back and forth as she tried to come up with what the _appropriate_ response to this was.

"SIT DOWN!" she commanded.

No, that wasn't it.


	4. Too Close for Comfort

**Too Close for Comfort**

* * *

It didn't take Helena long to realize she had _not_ chosen wisely. Green eyes glared down at her and she was almost certain they contained flames.

"Excuse me?" Myka said, leaning over the back of her chair. "Did you just order me…?"

"No, I mean, yes, but that's not what I meant," Helena babbled.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Myka said, grabbing her jacket tighter around herself, as she turned and left. She stormed out of the restaurant and started walking – in the wrong direction of the hotel. "Dammit!" she said and turned herself around to walk back.

This was enough time for Helena to throw money down on the table and bolt. She raced outside and looked right and then left. Myka was headed back at a furious rate. Helena put her arms out to slow the woman down. "Agent Bering, if you would indulge me and allow me to apologize," she said and could see the tenseness in Myka's jaw when she stopped walking.

"It's fine," Myka lied, still taken with how that accent enveloped very word. "Just don't think you can order me around. I am in charge here; you got that, Doctor Wells?"

"Yes," Helena said even though she wasn't completely on board with that. After all, it was rather a new concept for her.

"In this operation, you are under me. You do as I say," Myka barked.

The sly smile that came across Helena's face was automatic as she decided she liked the sound of that idea. Myka didn't understand what there was to smile about. "I'm sorry," Helena coughed, pulling herself out of the reverie. "You're absolutely right. I am not used to being the subordinate," Helena said honestly.

"Then the next two days should prove very challenging for you," Myka shot back because if there was one thing she was clear about, it was her job.

"I will absolutely do my best," Helena agreed and gave a sincere, albeit weak, salute.

Myka's anger may have made her slightly more impervious to the sultry accent, but she was having trouble now that the street lights were shining in those dark eyes smiling back at her. "Yeah," Myka finally said, refocusing her attention. "Let's see how that goes."

The plan was to walk away and not look back, but Helena reached out and touched Myka's hand as she passed by.

"Thank you, Agent Bering," the doctor said sincerely, her hand on Myka's.

Myka had never felt a jolt shoot through her like the one that did at the doctor's touch. It started where the warmth of Helena's skin was touching her, rose through arm, and throughout her body. Myka actually stared down to see if there was something in Helena's hand causing it.

Helena noticed Myka looking and withdrew her hand, allowing her fingers to graze the skin slowly.

"Yeah, you're welcome," Myka said, and walked away. When she had gone a few paces, she grabbed her hand and swore she could still feel heat where Helena touched her.

* * *

If there was one thing Myka Bering detested, it was feeling confused. And right now, that was exactly what she felt. Or more specifically, she felt caught between disappointed and exhilarated.

"Pull yourself together, Bering," she told herself, touching her badge and gun to remind herself why she was there. Her hands felt the hardware, but her heart was still on that touch.

"Bullocks!" Helena said as she watched Myka walk down the block and turn the corner. "Bloody brilliant, Wells," she chastised herself. But the doctor was a very direct person and she decided that the best way to remedy this situation was to demonstrate to the Secret Service agent that she was sincere.

After all, she only had two days left.

* * *

Myka was talking to herself when she entered the hotel room to the loud singing of her partner.

" _It's not unusual to be loved by anyone_ ," Pete belted out into Myka's hairbrush handle. He ran to her when he saw her before continuing the song. "I _t's not unusual to have fun with anyone_ ," he said, doing his best Tom Jones imitation. " _But when I see you out and about with anyone_...," he crooned.

What was he saying? Myka pulled her brush out of his hand. "What do you mean? I wasn't out with anyone. I had dinner. One, bland, not exciting dinner," Myka balked and went into the bathroom to recover.

Pete looked at his partner as she disappeared behind the door. He shrugged his shoulders and went back to belting out the song. " _It's not unusual to see me cry; I wanna die."_

Myka was surprised when she looked in the mirror at how red her cheeks were. _Had they been this way all night? Did Doctor Wells think she was embarrassed, or worse, flustered? Oh God! Did she think she was… interested?_ She detested that her body so easily gave up information without her permission.

"You have a job to do!" she shouted, sternly pointing to herself in the mirror. The words and reflection were enough to convince Myka that she could handle this. She put a cool clothe on her face and went back outside.

"You take that… very seriously, don't you?" Pete said, having overheard her self-instruction.

Myka finally realized what _he_ thought she was doing. "Go to bed, Pete!" she said, throwing her hands up and returning to the bathroom to get changed.

He waited until she emerged some time later to ask her about her evening. "How was dinner?" he asked from the other side of the wall of pillows.

"It was… dinner," she said nonchalantly. "She set up a schedule for me to interview her team, which was nice."

"Did she dissect her meat?" he asked making a cutting motion.

"Goodnight, Lattimer," Myka said and turned over on her side, pulling the terry cloth robe up tighter around her neck.

"Night, Myks," Pete said, ready for a nice, restful sleep.

He wasn't about to get it.

* * *

Myka's unconscious held onto those feelings she felt when Helena touched her hand and what she felt staring into ebony eyes that sparkled. Those emotions were stored and ready to be played out now that she fell asleep.

In her version of the dinner that was performing in her head right now, Helena couldn't have been more compliant or eager to please. ' _I hope this will meet with your high standards_ ,' the doctor said in the dream as she pushed the report over to Myka. ' _And of course, I'll have my team ready for whenever you want to interview them_.' Myka smiled as the tamer account of what took place played out in her mind. ' _Thank you, Doctor Wells,'_ she responded. ' _Oh, do call me Helena, please_ ,' the doctor almost seemed to beg. ' _Thanks, but I prefer to keep this professional,_ ' the storyteller in Myka's head dictated. ' _Even if I do this_?' the doctor asked and leaned over the table and kissed Myka. Myka's body twisted in bed as she felt the warmth spread throughout her being. Her hand lifted to her lips to feel the searing sensation that she experienced. ' _I'm almost certain that is not allowed_ ,' Myka said in response. ' _Almost... doesn't count,'_ the doctor said and kissed her again.

"Jesus, you're a good kisser," Myka exclaimed out loud.

Now _that_ caught her partner's attention as he woke from his slumber. He slowly peaked over the stacked pillows and watched as Myka smiled and moaned. He quickly pulled back and lay down. "Okay, that's new," he said of Myka's apparent uninhibitedness.

He listened until the guilt got him and he turned and pulled one of the pillows over his head.

* * *

Helena had decided that she had to get things back on track and would get a fresh start, first thing tomorrow. In order to do that, she'd have to know where Myka was staying; so she followed her. "See you tomorrow morning, Agent Bering," Helena smiled as she watched Myka go inside. All she had to do was flash her credentials – or her smile – and she was certain she would find out what room Myka was in. Then, she'd go up and bring her breakfast as a token of her apology.

The doctor returned to her apartment, which was the antithesis of her neat appearance. Opened books and half-finished journals lay strewn across her dining room table and desk. Her study was filled with her various inventions, in almost every stage from beginning to completion. Helena went into her bedroom and discarded her outfit. Crawling into bed, she pulled a cool sheet up over her scantily clad body.

The typically focused doctor couldn't think of anything, except the Secret Service Agent. It seemed Myka was monopolizing her every thought. Helena replayed the evening in her dreams, as well. In her version, she was her usual charming British self, sweeping said agent off her feet. Not only was the government employee impressed with Helena's report and take charge attitude, Myka also asked if they could dine again. "Of course," Helena agreed out loud because in her version, Myka simply couldn't' resist her.

* * *

In spite of the Disney version Myka's dreams were creating, she was going to wake the next day and decide she needed to be firmer with the doctor. Myka knew the best way to suppress a fire is to snuff it out.

The doctor was going to throw Myka's entire plan in disarray by showing up at her hotel room. Working under a tight time constraint, Helena knew she had to strike while the iron was on fire.

Given the strategies, things were certainly destined to get back on track.

Unfortunately, the engineers of these plans were occupying the same track and headed for each other.


	5. Under Her Skin

**Under Her Skin**

* * *

Being forced to share the same hotel room with Myka was becoming less and less appealing for Pete. It took those close quarters for him to see just how different they were. He wrapped a sheet around himself when he got up the next morning. He was exhausted, not having slept well with his partner's moaning all night. "Seriously, I thought we only dream a short amount of time we're asleep," he uttered to himself as he rubbed his eyes.

"Good morning!" Myka sang, popping up on her side of the bed, rested and bright-eyed.

"Well, I'm glad one of us got a good night's sleep," Pete groaned.

"I never slept better in my life," Myka announced and proceeded to go into the bathroom.

"Great," Pete said and decided he needed coffee. "I'm ordering room service," he shouted into Myka.

"Oh!" she said, standing in the doorway and brushing her teeth; a ritual that was very exact. "I'll take coffee and a bagel, with a _schmear_.

"A _schmear_? You're here twenty-four hours and you're picking up colloquialisms?" Pete noted.

"You know, I like New York. It's exciting," Myka shared.

"Is that what has you in a really good mood?" he asked as he called room service.

"No," Myka said, taking her toothbrush out of her mouth to speak. "You know what did it?" she said, looking up at the ceiling. "Putting that woman in her place. I really did, Pete."

"Two coffees and bagels with _schmears_ ," Pete said into the phone. "What did?" he asked his roommate. "Room 1401. Thanks," he said as he hung up. "Thirty minutes? I could go down and get it faster," he complained.

"I went to finish the interview last night with Doctor Wells. She is _really_ slick," Myka said and suddenly Pete was listening.

"What happened?" he asked, adjusting the sheet on his body, so now it looked more like a toga, draped over his shoulder.

"Oh, she thinks she _so_ slick," Myka repeated and waved her toothbrush at him.

"Myks, you're getting toothpaste," he tried to point out, but she was remembering how annoying last night was.

"First, she poured on the charm. Asked if I wanted a drink. Had a report all ready for me. Thought she was in control. I gotta spit," Myka said and went back into the bathroom... just as room service arrived.

"I want to hear the rest. Geez, thirty minutes is faster in New York. Do you tip these guys?" Pete yelled to Myka.

"Yes, and use cash," Myka said, her mouth full of water as she gargled. She had a very particular routine for brushing her teeth and this was going to take some time.

"Door's open; come in," Pete yelled, trying to find money in his pants pocket.

"You know the most annoying thing about _that_ woman?" Myka yelled as she continued brushing. "She thinks you're not catching on. Like, that British accent is going to cover up the annoying words she's saying. _Oh, do sit down!_ " Myka mocked in an exaggerated English accent.

"Oh, dear," Pete heard a very British accent say.

"Ha, that's pretty good, Myka," he laughed and turned to see – it wasn't room service at all.

It was Doctor Wells, standing there in a black coat that wrapped around her waist and black and red high heels. In her hand was her peace offering – coffee and bagels.

"Oh, hey, it's… you," Pete said and didn't know what to do.

"She _oozes_ charm," Myka shouted from the bathroom. "I mean, it's _really_ annoying."

Pete laughed out loud because he was so nervous. "Myka? Hey, Myks?" he shouted, but Myka was on a roll.

"Perhaps I should just leave this. I don't want to intrude and from the looks of it, I truly am," Helena said because she was misconstruing everything except Myka's mocking.

"Do you now she pried into my background? The unmitigated gall of that woman," Myka shouted and Pete wished for once, she'd shut up.

"MY-KA!" he yelled through gritted teeth. He was smiling nervously at Helena, hoping she didn't know she was the object of Myka's derision. "What brings you here?" he asked the guest.

Helena opened her mouth to explain, but Myka was still ranting. For her part, Helena was more confused about Pete's presence than she was Myka's complaining. They hadn't left on the best of terms, but she had no idea that Agents Bering and Lattimer were a couple.

"You know what I told her?" Myka shouted in between gargling and spitting.

"Oh, God, please shut up," Pete said and was grabbing his clothes, but there was nowhere to go to put them on. "She'll be… right out."

Myka did walk out finally and stood there with her hands on her hips, facing her wide eyed partner. "I told her – _You do as I say; you're under me_!" Myka repeated her statements. Myka was pretty proud of that statement and it showed in the smile on her face.

"Actually, your exact words were," Helena said slowly, her accent dripping over the words, " _In this operation, you are under me. You do as I say_." The doctor's expression was one of pride that she could remember what the agent said verbatim – and confusion about the present state of affairs.

"Doesn't matter," Myka said, wondering how Pete could imitate the doctor so precisely. "The important thing is I put her right in her place."

Pete had given up on trying to interrupt his verbose partner and instead, used body language. He pointed furiously for Myka to turn around.

"I'm not killing it, whatever it is," Myka told her insect-phobic partner.

"Well, that is good news," Helena said, still not having budged from her spot.

Now Myka could tell Pete wasn't doing an imitation. "Oh, God, please be a ventriloquist," she begged, hoping Pete was really good at this. She turned slowly around to see her worst nightmare was true.

"I come in peace," Helena smiled and held out the bag.

"What? How? Why?" Myka stuttered.

"I'll take that," Pete said, grateful for the food and the bathroom where he could escape. "Play nice," he said to Myka before disappearing.

"I beg your pardon. I had no idea," Helena said, thinking she had intruded on the couple's time.

"Had no idea?" Myka asked, trying to remember what she was wearing. _Whew – she was dressed_. Something about standing in front of this woman always made her feel exposed. Her eyes darted around the room in an attempt to find a place to crawl under. "I was…we were…," Myka started to say, hoping it sounded like they were discussing work.

"No, my apologies," Helena said, more annoyed at what she found than embarrassed. "I should have called."

"No! That was – you know, thoughtful?" Myka more inquired than stated about the food Pete had grabbed.

 _The only doubt the good doctor was experiencing is how she didn't pick up on the fact that these two were in a relationship. In fact, Agent Bering had given zero signs that she was involved. She must be very good at shutting it off, Helena decided. Seeing the agent she had deemed intellectual inferior with Myka now only served to upset her._

"Well, I'll see you later. Or rather, my team will see you. I don't think there's anything further you and I need to discuss, is there Agent Bering?" Helena asked and her tone was decidedly different. In fact, Myka pulled her robe closer around her neck at the chill that suddenly filled the air.

It was just enough of a nudge to pull Myka back from softening as she looked at the stunning woman who stood before her. Myka couldn't recall ever seeing a woman who was more beautiful. "What?" she said lost in her reverie. That feeling of Helena's touch seemed to reignite as Myka felt the heat in her hand all over again.

"From the looks of things, Agent Bering; you have _enough_ people _under_ you. I think we'll call it a day," Helena said, turning around and leaving; her anger fueled by Pete's reappearance.

"I think she heard you," Pete surmised as he shoved the last bite of a bagel lathered in cream cheese into his mouth.

"Shut up!" Myka barked.

The doorbell rang and Myka pushed Pete out of the way to get it. In the few steps it would take her to get to the door, she decided she would apologize for what she had said. It might not help, but it was all she could think of.

"I am so sorry, Doctor Wells," Myka said quickly as she swung open the door.

But, it was not the doctor who had returned, but room service, finally getting there. Now it was a battle of wills as Myka tried to get through the same door that the waiter was pushing the cart. Myka lost. By the time she went out into the hallway, Helena was long gone. She went back inside, where Pete was delighted over the additional bagels.

"Not bad," he said as the waiter left, tip in hand. "But the doctor's were actually better."

"Great, just great, Pete," Myka said, stomping off to the bathroom and slamming it shut.

"Myka, don't worry. You put her in her place and that's what you wanted, right?" Pete shouted with his mouth full.

"Yeah," Myka conceded, but wasn't happy.

The Secret Service Agent had indeed, put the good Doctor in her place. But it wasn't a place Myka was going to enjoy at all.

Even fired up, Myka played by the rules.

Getting Helena fired up meant no rules would be followed.


	6. Unstoppable Force Seeks Immovable Object

**Thnaks to Harley Quinn Davidson whose comments inspired the title of this chapter.**

 **And for all of you for coming back and giving me feedback. Much appreciate both.**

* * *

 **Unstoppable Force Seeking Immovable Object**

There was only one person brave enough to go near the Chief Medical Examiner when she stormed into work that morning. Most people, including the Senior Criminalist; Claudia Donovan, ducked out of the way, but this woman had a 'been there, done that' attitude. Oh, and nerves of steel.

Irene Frederic was New York City's Chief Pathologist, and the closest thing Doctor Wells had as a friend. One of those jobs took a great deal of patience and training. The other she went to school for. Irene had known Doctor Wells since she started. It was, to no one's surprise, not an easy transition.

"Slamming?" Irene asked the staff member who was hiding by a cabinet.

"And throwing," Claudia reported to Dr. Frederic, peeking above the structure that protected her.

"What has gotten into her?" she asked and no one dared answer. "Oh, I received an email with the schedule for today's interviews. Please make sure everyone is ready. These government types don't like to waste time."

"Really?" asked the staff member who thought that was the only thing they liked to do.

Irene started to walk towards the door. "Dr. Frederic?" the younger woman called out. "Do we have your next of kin listed in the file? You know, just in case?"

"Thank you for your concern, Claudia," Irene replied. Then, she knocked and opened the door. Now, the yelling was clearly louder.

* * *

"Helena?" Irene called out to let her know she was coming in. Her boss stood there, her hands on her hips, now that they were done pushing papers and objects off her desk.

"Do I look like the kind of person who can be dictated to?" Dr. Wells yelled when Irene walked in and saw the room in disarray.

"Do I look like the kind of person who wants to get hit with a stapler?" Irene asked, making sure her boss knew she didn't come in to get hurt.

"Don't be ridiculous. This is merely an expression of my deep and utter frustration at having to lower myself to deal with the epitome of stupidity," the Brit explained in what she truly believed was logic.

"Did the cafeteria run out of Earl Grey tea?" Irene asked because she had specifically begged the purchasing staff to make it a priority.

"What is wrong with you?" the woman with little manners asked, as if Irene were acting out.

"What is wrong with _me_?" Irene made the mistake of repeating.

"I don't have time to discuss that with you now," Helena responded… and yes, she was serious.

Pointing out other mortal's faults was sort of a hobby of hers.

"What's all this…," Irene said, waving her hand, "…about?"

"Dr. Frederic, I have been used!" Helena declared and expected nothing short of a look of horror on Irene's face.

"Say again?" Irene asked, getting closer and picking up some papers so she could sit down.

"Have we not discussed your hearing issues enough times that you haven't seen to getting them checked?" Helena said, poking on purpose.

"Yes, and remember I explained, it's not that I can't hear you; it's that I'm not listening," Irene reminded her friend.

Helena glared, but decided to provide an answer anyway. "It has to do with… that agent. Oh, that very smug agent. I don't have time for them. I practically did their job by arranging their interviews with my staff," the coroner pointed out as she paced. "I will not be kind if they disturb me today," Helena warned.

"Are you busy today?" Irene asked and looked at the clipboard with the empty list of incoming bodies.

"I have… things to do," Helena protested unconvincingly.

"Helena, I'm not really sure what you're upset about, but I don't think those government people are the issue," Irene said boldly.

This blunt honesty was the very thing Helena appreciated… and despised… about the only staff member who tolerated her.

"How would you even know that?" Helena demanded to know.

"Because you eat people like that for breakfast," Irene pointed out.

"I do not. Okay, maybe the irritating man, but … well, it doesn't matter. I will have nothing to do with them. I've done what I can to help and now I must get back to my work," Helena protested too much.

"Sure," Irene said and started to leave. Her hand was on the doorknob when her friend realized she was the one chance she had to talk about it.

"She tricked me," she said and felt that should suffice.

Irene wasn't entirely sure she was happy or not that she hadn't moved faster. " _She_?" she said, turning slowly back, but still holding onto the door. " _Tricked_?" she had to ask. " _You_?"

"She's not who she says she is," Helena explained, but her finger was wiping some imaginary dust off of her desk as she said that.

"Helena, both of them wore badges and showed us their ID's and carried guns. Who is she really?" Irene asked, letting go of the doorknob, but not stepping back in.

Helena felt something inside – a pang of tenderness at the subject. She had made a mistake; misread clues, and was embarrassed. This was tantamount to treason in her mind.

"Never mind," she waved her hand at her friend. "I am, as I always am, prepared to take care of this. This is my department and I will do as I see fit."

"That does not sound good," Irene said more to herself. She thought she was being helpful when she reminded her friend she had less than two days and the agents would be out of her hair. But that only made Helena more anxious.

And Doctor Wells didn't do anxious… well.

"Call my staff into a meeting, please," Helena said hurriedly.

"You just told me they had interviews," Irene pointed out.

"That, my dear Doctor Frederic, will have to wait," the woman in charge said, her eyebrow arched.

If there was one thing she was certain she had figured out about the deceiving agent, she liked order. And timeliness.

* * *

Myka had paced the hotel room until she made her partner nauseous. It had nothing to do with the four bagels he had.

"Myks, slow down, please," Pete begged, holding his stomach. "What is the problem?"

"What is the problem?" Myka shouted and wondered how he couldn't see. "I just insulted the Chief Medical Examiner!"

"You said putting her in her place was a good thing," he reminded her. "You just sort of added cement to the pace, that's all."

Myka paced and mumbled as she talked herself into getting it together. "We have a job to do!" she finally announced to Pete as if he were the one holding them up. "And dammit to hell; we're going to do it!" With that declaration, Myka swung open the hotel room door and stormed out.

Pete stood in place and didn't move. He tried to picture Myka stomping to the elevator. "Four, three, two, one…," he said and the door opened on cue. He smiled when his partner walked back in and sheepishly admitted she forgot her badge, gun and, ID. "I need these," she said, her voice cracking out of embarrassment.

"Yeah," Pete said and held the door open this time.

He'd been on several cases with his partner and he had never seen her act like this. If fact, he wasn't sure he minded it because it was almost like she was human instead of robo-secret service agent.

* * *

Myka spent the twenty minutes it took to get to the Chief Medical Examiner's Office on First Avenue thinking over her strategy. "I'll just, you know, apologize and we'll start fresh," she said even though Pete never asked.

Myka was giving herself the pep talk all the way to the office where she announced they were there to conduct interviews.

"I'm sorry, Agent Bering, but the entire department is in a meeting," the woman at the desk explained.

"But Doctor Wells arranged these herself," Myka said.

The woman shrugged her shoulders and watched Myka return to Pete. "I guess something came up," she said, giving Helena the benefit of the doubt.

First she sat, then she paced, but as time wore on, Myka became more and more impatient. After an hour, the conference room door opened.

"Well, _that_ was a total waste of my time," Claudia exclaimed as she marched past Myka and Pete. In fact, she wasn't the only one who expressed that they had no idea what the purpose of that meeting was. But as Myka looked at the last person to emerge, dark eyes latched onto her. And the doctor's smug smile told her everything.

Doctor Wells had just disrupted her whole day.

"Agent Bering, Agent Lattimer," Helena smiled victoriously.

Pete watched as the dark haired woman, dressed in a black dress walked towards his partner. It was like watching two forces of nature approach.

"I thought you set up a schedule, Doctor Wells," Myka said and Helena delighted at the annoyed tone.

"Was that today?" Helena said even though no one would believe she forgot.

"You said it was today… at the hotel," Pete pointed out.

"Well, there was _so much_ I was enlightened about… at the hotel, that's it's quite possible I forgot," Helena said.

Myka looked at the doctor, getting the impression there was a message there, but unable to get it. "Could we just…get started?" she asked, exasperated.

"Of course, Agent Bering," Doctor Wells said, her lips smiling, but her tone cold. "Just remember one thing; this is my office and everyone you deal with today … is under me."

With that, Helena walked away. Myka felt like the wind was knocked out of her, in part, because she had been confronted, but also because anytime she was with this stranger, she felt that way.

"Well, that went well," Pete lied. He watched as his partner stood there having an internal fight about who was really in charge. He had never seen Myka hesitate before.

It might have taken her a few seconds longer, but Myka understood what her job was to the smallest detail.

"The first interviewees are in those offices over there," the receptionist said, handing Pete two files.

"Thanks," Pete smiled back, taking them. "Okay, Myka, do you want the …" he was asking when Myka started to walk away. "Myka? Where are you going?"

Myka stopped and turned back to look at her partner. If there was one thing Myka Bering was not, it was incoherent in explaining herself. And yet, that day, all she could do was point to Helena's office and growl.

"Grrr," she said, her finger pointing in the direction she was going.

"Oh, sure," Pete said. "So _not_ going to be good," he said as he watched his partner approach Helena's door.


	7. Float Like a Butterfly Sting Like a Bee

**Float Like a Butterfly; Sting Like a Bee**

* * *

Pete wasn't the only one watching what was going on. Dr. Frederic had stopped long enough to hear what her boss was saying. She had always known Helena to be a no-nonsense woman, but there was an edge to her now that she had not seen before. Something was irritating Helena unlike any of the multitude of causes that bothered her on a daily basis. And as she cast an eye at the Secret Service Agent who was muttering to herself; Irene wondered if she hadn't found it.

Myka was pacing in small circles outside Dr. Wells' office as she prepared her speech. She wanted all emotion suppressed as she spoke to the doctor, but was having a hard time as her heart raced and her palms got sweaty. Myka didn't know who she wanted to shake more; the exasperating woman on the other side of the door… or herself.

Not one to meddle in anyone's business, Irene Frederic felt compelled to help the unwitting butterfly about to get tangled in the spider web. As soon as Myka's hand formed the fist to knock on the door, Irene called out. "She figured you out, you know," the woman in the white lab coat said. Myka's head snapped around to see who it was and who they could be talking about. In reality, she was grateful for the distraction because she wasn't quite sure what her opening line should be. Myka looked at Irene and then turned to look behind her to see who she was speaking to.

"You," Irene confirmed and pointed at Myka with her hand that was encased in the large pocket of her jacket.

"What does that even mean?" Myka said in a small voice as she laughed uncomfortably and more to herself than the woman down the hall. "I'm sorry?" she said louder and stepped away from the door and back into the hallway. "Are you speaking…?"

"Yes, to you," Irene said in a softer tone. She jerked her head towards the office and repeated; "She figured you out. Well, not all of you. But enough to know that keeping to a schedule is paramount on your list of priorities."

Myka looked at Irene and then back at the door. "Why? Why would she do that?" Myka asked, not yet admitting Irene was right. She was getting that feeling again – of being slowly undressed without one article of clothing leaving her body. Her hand went to her neck; an unconscious move to soothe herself.

" _That_ , my dear Agent Bering is the question," Irene said and her voice was warm as she extended her hand. "Irene Frederic; Chief Pathologist."

Myka remembered meeting Irene briefly yesterday when she arrived, but most of what happened yesterday seemed overshadowed by her meeting with Dr. Wells.

"Well, that's…," Myka said, in a tone that she wanted to convey absolute confidence, but instead was halting, "…you know, ridiculous. I can be flexible. I mean, if there's a reason."

"Ah, Agent Bering, but is the reason valid?" Irene asked and Myka felt like she was standing with the living embodiment of Yoda.

In fact, Pete just said the very same thing to the woman who had been in hiding earlier that morning. "If she were shorter…?" Pete proposed and then made a swooshing motion and the sound of a light saber.

"Right?" Claudia Donovan said and stared at the woman. "A lot of times I expect her to say; _Unlearn what you have learned_ ," she said in a perfect Yoda-like voice.

"Oh, my God; that's like one of my favorite lines!" Pete exclaimed and the two simultaneously raised their hands for a high five. "Pete Lattimer," he introduced himself.

"Claudia," she replied, but it sounded like two people were saying her name. "Oh, geez, I gotta go," the woman said to Pete and tried to run away, but stopped in mid-step when she heard Helena call her again.

"Ms. Donovan, would it be possible to get the Cranston file you promised me yesterday, or shall I continue to wait and get annoyed?" Helena asked, staring at the younger woman.

"Well, you kinda already _do_ sound annoyed," Claudia pointed out, feeling brave that there were others in the hallway, "… and it is on your desk. Well, it was on your desk," the woman pointed out because she started to get very nervous and was blabbering now," … you know, until you…whoosh…," she said, making a sweeping motion with her arms.

Helena had no time for this. She stepped back inside her office and slammed the door.

"Darth Vader on steroids," Claudia whispered to Pete and ran back to her desk.

"I am definitely interviewing her," he said to no one in particular.

* * *

Witnessing that exchange convinced Myka that this was not about her; it was about this crazy control freak on the other side of the door.

It was as if Myka and Irene were talking about this the whole time. Irene folded her hands in front of her and said; "Well, Agent Bering, how are _you_ going to handle this?"

It was that gentle question that seemed to get Myka right back on track. "I have a job to do, ma'am," Myka said, looking at the door. "And no one is going to stop me."

"I could have done without the _'ma'am_ '," Irene confessed, "…but bravo, Agent Bering, bravo."

"Thanks," Myka said because she instantly took a liking to this woman.

* * *

The Secret Service Agent drew a deep breath and knocked on the door.

"Please go away!" Doctor Wells called out, thinking it was a staff member.

Myka looked back for a second and Irene was still standing there, except now her eyebrows were raised, as if asking Myka what she was going to do. Her hand flew to the doorknob and the door was thrust open. "I don't think that's possible, Doctor Wells," Myka said and went inside.

"Gonna be like a steel cage match," Pete said to anyone within earshot.

Myka closed the door slowly and forgot what she was going to say next when she saw the state of Helena's office. "Is this…how you… _usually_ work?" Myka asked, because the files were everywhere except the top of the desk. Helena had only put back what she needed. And the Cranston file.

"Of course not!" Helena said, her accent returning to Myka's ears.

' _God, this woman can make anything sound good_ ,' Myka thought to herself. And once again, she found her mouth unable to form words when she looked at that long figure with flowing hair and eyes that commanded she look at them.

The doctor was embarrassed that Myka was seeing the aftermath of her temper tantrum. Oh, and she was still really upset about Myka being with Pete. But Helena was also riding on her victory of upsetting the agent's schedule and had just enough smug left over for one more jab. "Shouldn't you be interviewing people?"

That was it! Myka was done being jabbed.

"Doctor Wells, I came in here to apologize for my harsh assessment of you in the hotel room this morning. But you know what? You are every bit a pain in the a… a real nuisance!" Myka decided, because she never cursed on the job.

Helena would have smiled at how adorable Myka was with her choice of words if it weren't for the fact that the woman had this uncanny knack of making butterflies appear in her stomach. She had to strike back!

" _Nuisance_? You think I'm a… _nuisance_?" Helena said, and came around her desk with her arms folded. "I can be so much worse than…nuisance, Agent Bering!"

Helena's behavior actually made it easier to Myka to do the next thing. Threatening a Secret Service Agent was punishable by law. Myka put her hands on her waist… and felt the item that sparked an idea. The shiny, metal apparatus that just might get through to this woman.

"Doctor Wells, I am placing you under arrest," Myka began saying and Helena stared at her as if she were speaking another language.

"For what bloody reason!" Helena demanded to know.

"For obstructing the business of a government agent, Doctor Wells," Myka informed her and told Helena to turn around.

"You are bloody kidding me!" Helena protested and felt the agent's hand on her arm, turning her around.

Myka gently, but firmly, pulled the doctor down into the chair and slapped the cuffs on one wrist, then the other.

"I have never in my life…," Helena was saying, but the oddest thing happened.

In spite of the fact that she was truly and utterly appalled at the gall of this woman who just cuffed her; her finger reached out and grazed her captor's hand. It was as if her body knew exactly what she wanted, in spite of her objections.

Helena barely realized she was doing it, but Myka felt it.

"Stop that!" Myka blurted out as if it were a deliberate attempt on the doctor's part to overpower her.

Helena looked at her quizzically. "Just… stay!" Myka said, as if the woman had a choice. With that, she took off outside.

Pete stared at his partner who seemed flushed and covered in perspiration. "Yes! My money was always on your, Myka!" he said, grateful to see it was his partner who emerged intact.

Sort of.


	8. Change of Heart

**Change of Heart**

* * *

The look of satisfaction on Myka's face when she emerged from Dr. Wells' office was priceless. Well, that's not entirely true; as there would definitely be a price attached to her actions. But Pete was certain he rarely saw her look so gratified.

"So… _everything_ okay in there?" Pete asked, wondering how things seemed so quiet.

"Yes, just fine," Myka reported and Pete let out a sign of relief. "I handcuffed her," she added and made Pete pull her over so they could talk.

"You what?" he asked, looking at the office, wondering why there was no noise. "Did you knock her out, too?"

"No, she threatened me, you know, not… me… directly," Myka said, realizing the woman's presence threatened her ability to think straight.

"She physically threatened you?" Pete asked to clarify.

"No, not me… the process," Myka said, snapping her finger because she remembered why she took such drastic action.

"The process of interviewing?" Pete asked, very confused.

"Well, yes… you know, she said she could be…," Myka started to explain and hearing it, made her shove her hands in her back pockets and hesitate. "…worse than a nuisance."

"You cuffed her because she said she could be worse …," Pete asked and Myka interrupted him.

"Yes! Worse than that," she said, hoping it sounded better, but it didn't. "I handcuffed her," Myka said, but this time it didn't sound so definite. "She's very, very smug and annoying!"

"Myks, we're going to run out of handcuffs if that's the criteria. But, I think we're getting side tracked and I think I get it. I mean, that doctor is tough. Very hot, but tough, but you've never handcuffed tough before. You deal with that all the time," he gently reminded his partner.

He was right. Myka took on the toughest people and never wavered. People who were angry and shouted didn't throw her off her game. She could unarm a six foot six man, weighing two hundred and fifty pounds if he threatened the President. How was this woman making her so defensive?

"You're right," Myka admitted because she was good about that, too. "I overreacted."

"She did bring us bagels," Pete pointed out.

"But…," Myka said, not so easily swayed with food, "…she is kind of messing with me; us, I meant us."

"So, you've shown her who is boss. Now, go back in there and don't fall for her bluff. I'll start interviewing Claudia Donovan. You want this one?" Pete asked, handing Myka another file.

"Sure," Myka said, taking the folder. "I'll just go…straighten that out," she said, pointing to Dr. Wells' door. She slowly walked back and took a deep breath before knocking and entering, assuming, of course, that the handcuffed woman couldn't answer the door.

* * *

"Doctor Wells, I seem to ….," Myka said and looked in the room. Her head snapped to the right and then to the left, as she tried to figure out where the doctor was. Her eyes came center and she looked at the chair. There on the seat, lay the cuffs with a note. Myka walked over and picked up the paper.

' _Thank goodness these things haven't changed'_ , it said.

"God, this woman is so irritating!" Myka yelled.

"Myka?" Pete said from the doorway. He poked his head in and looked around. "Something's up out here."

Helena would have waited for her captor to see how easily she removed the shackles with a paperclip, but there was an emergency.

Now, Pete and Myka would get a firsthand view of what this team did.

* * *

The deceased was brought in with an urgent plea from police to find cause of death. It was the second body in a week that was found and they were suspicious of similar marks that would indicate the same killer.

Myka and Pete watched as the people they were going to interview, assembled and received instructions. Someone was helping Helena into a white lab coat and gloves, when the agents caught her eye. She could have apologized or said something. But she didn't. And yet, Myka stood there – certain – the woman had managed to convey a message to her.

"You want me to …?" Pete asked, uncertain of what he should do.

"No, Pete. I think this will serve us better than any interview might. Dr. Frederic?" Myka called out as the woman passed.

Within seconds, Myka and Pete were seated in a room outside the examination room. The deceased woman was on the table. People were setting Dr. Wells up so that she could commence the autopsy. Helena donned her headpiece so she could record her findings as she began.

"Wait a minute!" It finally dawned on Pete. "Is she going to …?" he asked, making a cutting motion with his hand.

"Yes, Pete. That's what the ME does," Myka said slowly.

"Oh, sure. Of course she does," Pete laughed nervously. "That's what she does. Which is okay, because that's where we are."

"Do you want to wait…?" Myka asked gingerly.

"Me? No!" Pete protested, but when they heard Helena commence the procedure, Pete went white and got lightheaded. "It's just…"

"Hey, Pete?" Myka said, trying to help her partner save face. "Could you possibly interview the staff that's not involved right now?

"The staff? Not involved? That's a great idea. I could do that," he affirmed and backed out of the room quickly.

* * *

Myka smiled at his exit and then turned her attention back to the woman, who a half hour ago, was annoying the hell out of her. A postmortem examination was not something Myka had really experienced before, but she kept her eyes on the woman conducting the assessment. The staff was at rapt attention, waiting on Doctor Wells' every command as they worked in perfect harmony. And on the table was the body of a young woman, cut down in her prime.

Gone was the sharpness of the doctor's biting comments and instead, Myka heard a compassionate, professional tone as Helena proceeded with a dissection that would reveal the true cause of death. Myka's premedical background only lightly prepared her for what an autopsy really involved, and yet she found she could observe the procedure because Helena performed it with such care. There was nothing cold or distant about her tone.

An hour later, Helena finished her job and prepared her report to hand over to the police. Myka went outside and rounded the corner to tell Helena she had seen everything she needed to see to confirm everything would be in place, should they need them.

"Doctor Wells?" Myka asked Claudia, who pointed to the room where Helena was cleaning up. Myka approached the door, which was ajar the tiniest bit; but it was enough to see the doctor standing at the sink, visibly upset. Myka looked away and would have left, but Claudia was jerking her head.

"She's in there," the young criminologist confirmed.

Myka didn't want to explain her hesitancy, so she gently knocked on the door. Helena's head immediately shot up, and it was obvious to Myka that the doctor was wiping away an errant tear. "Just a minute," Helena said, her voice dewy from emotion. "Yes?" she called out, when she had suppressed the reaction.

"Doctor Wells?" Myka said, stepping in, but barely. "I think we have everything we need. I…," Myka said and pointed back to the autopsy room. "… saw everything I need."

Helena stared at her and nodded her head. Helena didn't often get upset with her job; but when the victim was so young, it proved difficult. There was something in this stranger's green eyes that made her feel like she wanted to dissolve into the tears that welled up deep inside.

But Helena would never do that. Her emotions… and her heart… were now under lock and key.

"Good," Helena said, trying to sound tough, but failing.

"Agent Lattimer is finishing up interviewing the staff that wasn't involved in there," Myka said, trying desperately to think of a reason for her delay.

"Excellent," Helena concurred.

And that should have been the moment when Myka thanked the good doctor for her time and left. It should have been Myka's exit so that she could report back to her bosses that everything was in good order. It should have been the time Myka completed her reports and checked this off her to do list. But something nagged at Myka not to do any of those things.

"So, you'll be leaving?" Helena asked, just to be sure.

"Yes," Myka immediately responded.

Helena nodded her head, wishing the agent in front of her wasn't involved and wasn't leaving. But Helena was a realist.

"Well, if there's anything else you need," Helena said out of politeness.

"Would you… like to have dinner?" Myka blurted out because her heart was too impatient waiting for her brain to catch up.

"Would I?" Helena asked, surprised by the invitation.

"I mean, technically, you're still under me," Myka slipped. "I mean, under arrest. I arrested you…back there…before. If you're busy or don't want to, that's good, too."

"I'd be delighted," Helena smiled. "I mean, since I'm under arrest and all," she added, unsure if it was going to be a threesome.

"Right," Myka smiled and Helena melted in those green eyes without permission. "I'll text you a location."

Myka was walking out when Helena had to ask. "Will it be the three of us?"

That stumped Myka as she tried to figure out who else Helena wanted there. "Three?" she asked quizzically.

"Your partner; Agent Lattimer?" Helena asked point blank. "I thought perhaps you two had plans?"

"I'm pretty sure Pete is going to be watching sports tonight," Myla laughed, not clearing anything up for the doctor.

Fortunately, brazen came easily to Helena Wells, M.D.

"I figure if it was your last night in New York, perhaps you and your boyfriend would want to dine…," but that's as far as she got before Myka erupted in a nervous laughter.

"Boyfriend? Pete and I? Pete and me?" Myka said, trying to get it grammatically correct. She looked at Helena who was obviously waiting for more. "No! Absolutely not. I mean, I love the guy like a brother, but…"

"Oh, I assumed when I saw the bed… in the hotel… that you were…together," Helena said and would have blushed if she ever partook in such a thing. But she didn't.

"Oh, God, no!" Myka spat out. "Mix-up. One room and we couldn't get another one. No, absolutely not!" Myka protested and Helena's smile grew wider with each declaration.

"Okay, well, I'm glad I was wrong," Helena admitted.

It was dawning on Myka just how glad Helena appeared to be. In fact, Myka was wondering if this didn't explain the doctor's change of tone this morning. "Okay, good, I'm glad we cleared that up," Myka smiled. "I'll see you tonight, then."

"Would you like to come to dinner…at my place?" Helena jumped to the very edge of the limb.

"Your place?" Myka asked as she thought about it. "Sure, I can bring something.."

"No, don't be silly," Helena said. "I'll be happy to cook."

"Great," Myka smiled.

"Eight?" Helena asked.

"Perfect," Myka smiled and opened the door where Claudia Donovan was standing. In fact, she was so close; it almost appeared that she was eavesdropping.

"OH HEY!" Claudia said. "Pete's looking for you."

"Thanks," Myka said and turned back to smile at Helena one more time.

"Well, that was a whole lot calmer," the young woman noted when Myka was down the hall.

"Get Doctor Frederic for me," Helena requested in a calmer, but anxious, tone.

"Sure," Claudia said. "You know she's going to ask me why you need her," said the would be messenger.

"Tell her I need her to teach me how to cook," Helena said seriously.


	9. The Plea Deal

**The Plea Deal**

* * *

Irene Frederic knew her boss could be contradictory, but knowing it didn't make it easier to deal with it.

"She just told me this report was top priority," Irene lamented when Claudia delivered the part of the message that Helena wanted her.

"Oh, she's got _a really good_ reason," Claudia said, unable to look the woman in the eye. It was a dead giveaway.

"If this is another one of her hair brain excuses…," the older woman warned and Claudia put her hands up in front of her.

"Don't shoot the messenger," she pleased.

"Yes, well in that case, I insist you return with me. You know, to show what a great messenger you are," Irene requested.

"But…I have…," Claudia pointed to her desk as she passed it when Irene gently pushed her in the direction of Helena's office.

* * *

"Great!" Helena said and was even putting some of her own papers back on her desk. "Dr. Frederic, I'm afraid I'm going to have to call in some of those favors you owe me," she said, having thought through the most gracious way to present this.

Irene looked over at Claudia, which only made the younger woman more nervous. "Let me … help you Dr. Wells…with all these files," she said and fell on her knees behind the desk.

"I'm not sure which of those concepts I find more amusing. That you're _afraid_ or that I _owe_ you favors," Irene mused.

"Not all of them, of course, that would be entirely too much," Helena shared and Claudia whimpered.

"Why don't you, for kicks and giggles, Helena, name the top three favors I owe you," Irene said and took a seat.

"She's sitting down," Claudia cringed. She knew she was in for a long discussion now.

"What?" Helena asked and was about to tell the woman she had no time for this nonsense, but realized she was going to need her cooperation. "Okay," said the sport. "I have kept you employed…," Helena said and both women heard the sound of someone hitting their head against the desk.

"You? Have kept me? Employed?" Irene asked, shifting in her seat. Her expression was nothing short of dubious.

"Must be the bad memory again," Helena murmured and Claudia hit her foot. "Ouch! Well, then there's the atrocious couture failures that I must endure."

"Excuse me?" Irene said, leaning forward in her seat.

"You continuously wear stripes when I've shared with you that it does nothing for your figure," the head doctor said and meant to sound sympathetic. Not everyone was born with good fashion sense.

"Oh, gawd," Claudia said and started to rock back and forth a little.

"And I had hoped I didn't need to bring this up," Helena said slowly, wishing the woman would concede and say she had enough evidence.

"I would choose the next example _very_ carefully," suggested the woman teetering on being insulted.

Feeling she was only speaking the truth, Helena felt it perfectly fine to remind the woman she opened her home to her when she was – "Thrown to the wolves by fate."

"I was having my apartment fumigated," Irene clarified.

"Still," Helena said, her right shoulder rising to indicate it counted.

Irene Frederic spent more minutes than she cared to admit wondering what it was about this obstinate, self-centered, annoying woman that – in spite of all that – made her want to be friends.

It could have been that sometimes it was just easier to give the woman what she wanted or she would torture you.

"What do you need me to do?" Irene asked for clarification, but to Helena, it signaled she was right.

"Splendid!" Helena said, and looked down at the _Doubting Thomas_ who was still hiding near her desk. "I need you to teach me how to cook." The expression on Helena's face was all but – so there – easy peasy.

"Cook," Irene repeated and reminded Helena that the woman possessed this annoying habit of repeating things.

"Is it my accent? Because I thought single syllable words were easier for you to get," Helena said, slowing down her speech a little.

"Doc!" Claudia called up to Helena to shut up.

"Let's try this," Irene said exasperated. "You want me to teach you how to cook… every Tuesday? Once a month? Why don't you take classes?"

"No, no," Helena said, sitting down because this woman exhausted her. "I just need you to cook a meal for tonight. I invited Agent Bering…,"

"Ohhh," Claudia said, popping up. "Yeah, she did." Dark eyes held her in their gaze and scared her. "I'll just keep picking up files here."

"You invited her to dinner but you don't know how to cook. Why not bring something in?" Irene asked.

"Must I educate you on all the proper protocols of life?" Helena had the nerve to ask. "When one invites another person to dinner, it's not for pizza or takeout food."

"Hey, why not?" Claudia asked, because that was exactly what her dinners were like.

"It is implied in the invitation that the person is being offered a meal that will be prepared by the host," Helena explained, thinking she really wished these women didn't make everything so complicated.

"So, this is a romantic dinner?" Irene threw out there because she knew it would throw her boss.

And it did.

And Helena knew she did it on purpose because of the haughty look on Irene's face.

"It is not anything … Agent Bering is leaving now that her work is complete … and I thought…," Helena stammered.

"That she and Agent Lattimer were together," Irene said, having put that together after meeting Myka and Pete.

"Are there no bounds to how annoying you can be?" Helena asked seriously.

"I'm not even close," Irene assured her.

"You know, I could do this on my own," Helena threatened. "There are plenty of videos of how to prepare a meal. I have exquisite motor skills."

"No, you're stuck because you overstated your culinary skills," Irene pointed out. "Besides, I don't want to see Agent Bering poisoned."

"Your assessment of this situation is pointless and I wish you would put that energy into actually helping," Helena implored.

There was silence in the room as Claudia picked her head up to see what Irene was going to do.

Irene considered the flawed proposition. There was something she immediately liked about Agent Bering and wasn't sure she shouldn't protect her. But then, there was something different about Helena. Underneath the pointed and delusional way she viewed this situation, there was a quiet plea for help because this mattered.

"I'll do it," Irene said, breaking the anticipatory tension in the room. Helena knew she truly had no other options.

"Great!" Helena said and thanked her friend.

"What do you want to make?" Irene asked and took a piece of paper so she could tell Helena all the ingredients to get.

"That is … up to you, my dear Irene. Whatever it is that you make well. But not steak. And not fish because it will smell up the apartment. Chicken I guess would be okay, but make sure it's free of antibiotics. And side dishes and a vegetable. Bread of course, but not something that will produce a lot of crumbs. And dessert, should the agent indulge in that sort of thing," Helena thought through.

"You want me to do the food shopping?" Irene asked incredulously.

"That would be great! Unless you prefer those delivery services. Whatever works best for you," Helena conceded.

"I don't believe you," Irene admitted.

"No, really; it's okay, I'm fine with whichever you want to use," Helena smiled graciously.

"What time is dinner?" Irene asked, exhausted by the exchange.

"Eight, so please be there by six so you can get everything prepared," Helena decided.

Irene stood up and Claudia came out of hiding. "Helena, I'm going to teach you – not do it," Irene clarified.

To Helena, they were one and the same. "Of course," she smiled.

"Hey boss, you want candles for the table?" Claudia called back as they left.

"Wonderful idea, Claudia," Helena agreed.

"It's _so_ a romantic dinner," she whispered to Irene.


	10. The Preparations

**The Preparations**

* * *

"All I'm saying is that I could be _very_ useful and you won't even know I'm there," Claudia begged Irene to be included in the chance of a lifetime.

"Why would _you_ even want to be there? _I_ don't even want to be there," Irene realized.

"It will give me…, you know," the younger woman attempted to put her desire into words, "…a chance to see Helena being…human."

Irene eyed her young friend suspiciously. "You can help me with the shopping."

"Great! Wait, how come we're doing the shopping?"

"Because the dinner is tonight and not a week from tonight. Have you ever seen that woman in a store? Neither have I," Irene pointed out.

"Oh, wonderful!" Helena said when she saw Irene leaving work later that day. "Now, remember, elegant, but simple; delicious, but not too complicated."

"So, mac and cheese?" Irene quipped.

" _What_ and cheese? " asked the woman who was unfamiliar with the staple.

* * *

Myka and Pete had finished the interviews and were on a call with their boss. "I think we saw everything we needed to see today to know that this team would be ready in case of such an event," Myka concluded convincingly.

"I think _one_ more day should do it, you know to wrap things up," Pete interjected, hoping to extend their stay a little.

"Fine," the director agreed since she didn't want to stay late that night either. "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."

"Okay!" Pete said, happy to have one more night for sports in New York. "Leslie has tickets to a basketball game!"

"Oh, good," Myka said, hoping to avoid any further discussion.

"So, things are cool with you and the head honcho now?" Pete asked, remembering the change of expression in his partner after she came out of the doctor's office.

"What? Oh, yeah," Myka tried to brush off. "That autopsy showed me a whole other side of her."

"Yeah, an _armed_ one," Pete wisecracked. "Well, I guess you'll be glad to be done with her."

"Well, uhm…the funny thing is…," Myka squirmed because she couldn't lie, "…she invited me to dinner."

"Again? Isn't that what set you off the first time?" Pete pointed out.

"No! Well, yeah, but then…," she tried to explain.

"And didn't you say she was a pain in the ass, even though she brought bagels?" Pete pushed.

"Yes, but then…," Myka attempted again.

"And she was so annoying, that you had to handcuff her?" Pete reminded Myka who cringed at having done such a thing.

"Well, it was actually a big misunderstanding," Myka laughed nervously.

"You didn't _mean_ to handcuff her?" Pete pressed on, enjoying this just a little.

"No, I did mean to do that," Myka said, her eyes darting back and forth and she started to pace. "…she admitted that she misunderstood…," Myka said and her hand waved over the bed.

"That you sleep?" Pete asked.

"No!" Myka responded. "That you…and… me…were sharing …."

Pete found it endearing that his partner could stare down bad guys without blinking, was blushing at the insulation they were sleeping together.

"Oh, she thought you and me were…," Pete said unnecessarily and worse, made a motion with his body to tease her even more.

"Pete!" Myka yelled. "Yes, and you know exactly what I mean."

"Oh, so now the doctor knows you're single and she invited you to dinner to try again?" Pete asked.

Myka could have left it at that, but it wasn't quite the whole truth. "Well, I invited her first… you know, to apologize…for overreacting…a tad," Myka said and her voice was really low.

"A tad," Pete repeated.

"But then she asked me if I'd like to come to her place for dinner," Myka explained further.

"Well, maybe I should order you some room service then," he suggested.

"Why?" Myka asked.

"Does that woman look like she knows how to cook?" Pete suggested.

"Maybe we'll have take-out or pizza or something," Myka said.

"Bring wine," her friend suggested. "And dessert. And a bag in case she's as bad as I think she's going to be and you can go throw up."

"PETE!" Myka reprimanded him.

"Okay, could I suggest one thing?" Pete said sincerely.

"What?" Myka asked even though she didn't want to hear it.

"You might want to get a dress or something because those…," he said, pointing to her outfit, "…say _reporting for duty, ma'am_."

Myka dismissed his idea and said she was just going to freshen up before going to dinner. Pete said he was leaving and warned her one more time. "At least leave the handcuffs here. Unless, you know, she's into that sort of thing and maybe then ….," he tried, but Myka was throwing the pillows at him as he shut the door. He could hear her groaning at how annoying he was as he left.

* * *

Back inside, Myka picked up the pillows and caught sight of herself in the mirror. She stood up tall, pulled on her dark jacket and pushed her maroon blouse further into her black slacks. She looked at herself from the side, but that didn't improve things either. Maybe Pete was right. She looked at her watch and decided she had enough time to get a new outfit.

The closest thing to the hotel was a small dress shop. When Myka entered, the woman rushed at her with the same speed EMT's rush to the scene of an accident. In fact, the woman felt Myka needed her life-saving skills as much as any accident victim. As soon as Myka was in the store, she knew it was a mistake. She decided it was what prey felt like, a second before hawks swooped down on them.

"Oh, my dear," the woman said and her voice was full of condolences. She touched Myka's arm, but withdrew it when she felt the fabric.

"Okay, I don't need …," Myka was protesting when the woman, who was impeccably dressed, argued that she did.

"What is the occasion?" the woman asked sincerely.

"Dinner, just a dinner. At a friend's. Well, she's not really a friend," Myka rambled on and on and the saleswoman noticed the blush in her face. It spoke volumes. "We work together – well, hopefully, we will never work together because if we did, that would be very bad. _Very bad_ ," Myka said, her thoughts consumed with Helena and unable to form coherent sentences.

"Dinner…out?" the woman asked as she led Myka to the back where the dressing rooms were.

"No, at her place. I asked her to go out, but she asked me to dinner. Our first dinner didn't go well at all," Myka laughed as if she were talking to an old friend. " _SIT DOWN_ ," Myka said, imitating Helena and then realizing the woman had no idea what she was talking about.

"I think this would be very nice on you," the saleswoman said, having all the information she needed. "Perfect for a romantic dinner." She handed her a black cocktail dress.

"A what? Oh, no, this isn't that. No, there's no romance. You need romance to have a romantic dinner; am I right?" Myka joked and didn't know what had gotten into her. "I'm losing it," she said as she took the dress and went into the dressing room.

"Infatuation will do that to you," the wise saleswoman said and snapped her fingers for her assistant to bring lingerie and shoes to match the dress. "Miss?" she called into Myka and shoved the garments through the door. "I'm guessing you'll need these, as well."

"No, I can…," Myka was saying when she realized her bra strap would show with the spaghetti strapped dress. "Oh, okay."

It may have been _Agent Bering_ who entered that dressing room, but it was _Date Myka_ who emerged moments later.

"You look gorgeous," said the saleswoman who felt as if she had uncovered the woman she sensed was under all that drab clothing.

"And it's black; I like black," Myka said, pleased at the image in the mirror.

"A little too much," the saleswoman smiled. "Black is elegant and should be saved for special occasions. Not a daily wardrobe," she reminded her new client.

The woman insisted that they would have Myka's clothes, including her boots, returned to the hotel. "Get used to being out from under your job," the woman suggested. "Get some wine or candy for your romantic dinner."

"No, it's not that…really. We're just…," Myka said, but couldn't fill in the blank. "She probably can't even cook," she laughed as she paid and left the store.

* * *

Myka walked out into the cool air and pulled the elegant shawl over her bare shoulders. She couldn't help but notice how some people looked her way and smiled. It had been a long time since Myka Bering felt this good. But she realized she had no idea what to do next. "Wine," she said and looked up the nearest liquor store. She immediately caught the man's attention when she walked in.

"Can I help you?" he asked, looking her up and down.

"I need a wine; for a dinner," Myka said, her eyes looking at the wine selection.

"Romantic?" he asked, checking her out.

"Why does everyone assume it's romantic? I mean, isn't anyone surprised that she can even stand me after what I did to her. I mean, handcuffing someone who just threatens to be worse than a nuisance was pretty extreme," Myka ranted again.

"Lady, I don't know _what_ you're into, but I wish I were part of it," the man gushed and handed her a bottle of white wine.

Myka stared, took the bottle, and paid. She walked outside and could feel the heat in her face. "You better get it together, Myka!" she said to herself.

* * *

"Could you please get all of this together?" shouted Helena because her kitchen seemed to have food everywhere.

"I told you, give a man a fish, he eats. Teach him how to cook, he won't starve. Or something like that," Irene said, and turned her friend around so that she could tie an apron on her.

"When I said I wanted you to make dinner, I meant _you_ prepare it," Helena pointed out.

"No, you invited someone to dinner and told me the expectation was a home cooked meal," Irene reminded her.

"You did say you wanted her to teach you how to cook," Claudia said, sitting on the counter top and observing one of her favorite pastimes – her boss trying to pull off being human.

"Your purpose here is exactly what?" Helena asked of her young colleague.

"Well, I could actually make room on that dining room table for the plates," Claudia suggested because it was covered with journals and inventions.

"Please, make yourself useful," Helena said.

"You know you get more bees with honey," Irene reminded her friend.

"I'm being more than civil; am I not?" Helena bellowed.

"Please, don't make me answer that," Irene said and took out a couple of bowls. "First, break an egg in that bowl," she instructed and handed Helena an egg. She went to get the flour and when she came back, Helena was still trying to crack the egg. "Harder," Irene suggested and Helena whacked it on the edge of the bowl. The egg was everywhere but the inside of the bowl.

"What time is she coming?" Irene asked patiently.

"Eight," Helena said.

"We have a lot of work to do," Irene said and handed Helena another egg.


	11. Metamorphosis

**Metamorphosis**

* * *

In the time it took Myka to get a dress and a bottle of wine, Helena had managed to test the patience of, not one, but two women... and a dozen eggs.

" _In_ the bowl," Irene repeated and Helena looked at her.

"Do you honestly believe I am aiming for the outside?" the doctor quipped.

"It takes practice," Irene smiled and handed her the next attempt.

"It takes _patience_ , as far as I am concerned, and I'm running on empty," Helena announced.

"With the _wrist_ , Helena; with the _wrist_ ," Irene ignored her and demonstrated again what the motion should be like.

Helena turned back and concentrated, all the time thinking how much easier it would be if this woman just did it. In spite of that thought, the thirteenth try was a charm.

"You did it!" Irene said, amazed and relieved.

"Yes!" Helena said, equally pleased. "I did indeed!"

"That's great. Okay, next step…," Irene said and Helena fell forward dramatically and groaned. "You're not having scrambled eggs, my friend. Chicken francaise has a few more steps."

Irene took the five pound package of flour and placed it on the counter. "Helena, this is very messy…," she explained, but the woman was asking its purpose and pouring it into a bowl. A white cloud of dust appeared from the speed at which the non-cook moved. "You have to place the chicken breast into the flour, then the egg, and then into the pan," Irene explained, lining up the bowls.

"You make it sound as if it's challenging," Helena retorted and began the first step. The flour exploded onto her dress when she tossed it into the first bowl. Next, the egg wash sloshed over the side of the dish.

"I don't know why I thought this would be _hard_ ," Irene said and watched the mess grow. "Put it on this platter until you're ready."

"I am not on cleanup duty!" Claudia made sure everyone knew.

"What time is it?" Helena asked - and Claudia wanted to say that it was two minutes since she last asked, but instead said it was seven fifteen.

"We have plenty of time…," Irene was assuring Helena when they all heard something that made them freeze.

The doorbell.

"Who the devil would that be?" Helena asked Irene as if she were the one who occupied the apartment.

"I'm hoping it's Bobby Flay, but what do I know?" Irene remarked.

"Good one, Doctor F," Claudia laughed.

"Could you make yourself useful?" Helena requested of her young friend and jerked her head toward the front door.

"Sure," Claudia said, taking her time to get there.

* * *

Myka's flustered state, along with her rule of _never_ being late, made her arrive _very_ early.

"Oh, hello," Myka said, worried for a second that she had the wrong apartment.

"Agent… _Bearing_?" Claudia said, not sure it was the same woman because the alteration was amazing.

"Bering," Myka smiled. "I…am having dinner with Doctor Wells?" Myka asked because the young woman wasn't doing anything, but staring her up and down.

"You look…so…different," Claudia said and still didn't move. "Like, _really_ different."

Now, Myka was blushing and looking from side to side, because she wasn't sure how to say – ' _Can you let me in_?' "Is Doctor Wells…here?" she finally asked.

"Oh, my god!" Claudia said and stepped back inside, opening the door wider and inviting Myka in. "I'm so sorry."

"Thank you," Myka smiled and stepped in.

"Let me get… I'll go… we were just… not helping or anything. Just here," Claudia babbled and decided she better shut up. "Sit, please. I'll tell Doc you're here. The British one, not the other… Be right back!"

Myka smiled and looked around. It seemed Helena's apartment resembled her office in that things were piled in many places. "Oh, I have…," she was saying about the wine, but Claudia was gone.

Myka wondered if she should have gotten two bottles of wine, since there seemed to be at least one other person for dinner, maybe two. "I told them it wasn't _romantic_ ," she said in a low voice as she scoffed and then realized how she was dressed. "Oh, Myka!" she chastised herself. She worried the other guests would all be in their business attire and she would be dressed to the nines; a clear indication she misunderstood the invitation.

"BLOODY HELL!" she heard coming from the kitchen and really started to worry.

* * *

She had no way of knowing that Claudia had just told Helena that her guest was early. "She can't be," Helena declared and Claudia took the time to explain that regardless of what Helena believed, the agent was, in fact, in her living room.

"I'm a mess," Helena said, looking at Irene.

"Yeah," Irene had to agree and offered to get some of the flour off of Helena's dark dress.

"I hope you're satisfied," the Brit barked at the woman she believed could have prevented this by cooking the meal herself.

"We don't have to go out the window, do we?" Claudia asked and now Irene saw the dilemma.

"Go inside and greet your guest before she wonders if you're nuts," Irene said, pulling the apron off of Helena and making her spin.

Helena stood in front of the kitchen door, brushed her dress off and tried to push back her hair. Then, mustering up her serenity, she pushed open the door and went inside.

"Damn!" Claudia let out. "I meant to tell her Agent Bering looks hot."

* * *

Myka's back was to the doctor as she burst into the room, laughing and apologizing for not greeting her personally. "The damnedest thing," Helena started to fabricate the reason - when Myka turned to say hello.

One could have heard the screeching of brakes when Helena stopped dead in her tracks upon seeing her guest. She was _surprised_ at how early Myka was; but she was _speechless_ at the transformation from Agent Bering to this woman outfitted in a black cocktail dress who looked so stunning. The dress showed off Myka's curvy shape that was well hidden under her work clothes. "I… I… was…," Helena willed herself to speak, but her eyes were locked on Myka's smile.

"I'm sorry I am so early," Myka apologized and extended her hand.

Helena's brain yelled at her to take it. "Oh, yes, no, not a problem at all," she finally said and took Myka's hand. It was warm and firm, yet soft and Helena forgot to let got. "Please, sit down," she finally said and released it.

While Helena was staring at her guest, Myka was smiling at the sound of Helena's accent that seemed to warm the room. "Oh, I brought this," Myka remembered and took the wine again and handed it to Helena. "I guessed… white. Will it be enough? I can go get more," she suggested in case there were more guests.

" _More_?" Helena asked when Myka sat down, a position that only further enhanced what the dress showed off.

"I didn't know there would be and other…," Myka said, watching Helena watch her.

"Other… what?" Helena asked, unable to figure it out.

"Guests?" Myka laughed. "Ms. Donovan answered your door."

"Oh!" Helena said, almost shaking herself. "No! God, no! I mean, no, they're just here…," Helena said, pointing to the kitchen, hoping some explanation would come to mind. "…I'll get rid of them," Helena jumped to conclusions and was off before Myka could beg Helena not to do it on her behalf.

"Okay, this is awkward," Myka said and wasn't sure what to do.

* * *

"You have to go," Helena chose as her way of thanking her dear friends, and suggesting they leave.

"Excuse me?" Irene said, not in any mood to take her friend's lack of decorum. One look at the stocky woman with her hands planted firmly on her hips was all the body language Helena needed to tell her her approach sucked.

"I mean…," Helena corrected herself. "Your work here is done. Much appreciate it," the Brit said and the words somehow didn't flow smoothly.

"So, you _got_ this?" Irene asked, fully aware her friend didn't have this. "You're good?"

The brilliant doctor was beginning to think her friend might just be insinuating something. "I… put the chicken in the pan, six minutes on each side and voila!"

"What about the sauce?" Irene quizzed and crossed her arms.

The blank expression on Helena's face indicated she had not been listening when Irene talked about the sauce required for this dish. "I put…," Helena said, looking around for clues. Helena wanted to get back to the living room. If she never ate again, she was okay with that at the moment. "…that…into the pan with oil and butter, six minutes on each side. Remove and add white wine, juice from half a lemon, butter and reduce for two minutes. Boil the water, put the pasta in, take it out eight minutes after boiling. Salads are in the refrigerator, serve first. Blah, blah. It's chemistry, Doctor Frederic; not brain surgery."

"Okay, then," Irene said, wiping her hands of the ingredients…and the situation. "If you're sure."

"Yes, yes, not a problem," said the clueless woman.

Irene seemed to know instinctively that her friend was assuring her as well as herself. Only one of them was buying it.

"One thing before I go," Irene said, getting her bag. "Where do you keep your fire extinguisher?"

Helena thought she was mocking, but Claudia knew better and went searching for it. "Here it is," she said, putting in on the counter.

"Thank you, both," Helena said and started to walk them out.

* * *

"Oh, Agent Bering!" Irene said as if she were completely surprised. "How nice it is to see you again," she said to be polite, but Helena was groaning behind her.

"Very nice to see you, too, Doctor Frederic," Myka stood up and smiled.

 _Now_ Irene understood why she and Claudia were being rushed out.

"I hope you're not leaving on my account," Myka said and wasn't sure what was going on.

"No!" Helena blurted out. "Not at all. Doctor Frederic is a very busy woman…," she was saying and Irene couldn't help but tease her friend.

"I might be able to juggle things...," she said and then laughed, especially when she saw how upset her boss was at the thought. "No, I'm sorry, I can't."

"Oh, too bad," Helena said, practically pushing her friend further towards the door.

"Yep, we gotta go," Claudia confirmed and asked Helena under her breath is she knew how to use the extinguisher.

"There isn't a contraption I don't know how to operate," Helena assured her.

Helena would prove that wasn't true before the night was over.


	12. Slow Burn

**Slow Burn**

* * *

Helena's rushing her friends out the door wasn't the only thing Myka didn't understand, but she was secretly happy to see them go.

"They're dears, really," Helena smiled. "They absolutely _insisted_ on helping."

"That's so nice," Myka said. "I hope you haven't gone to any trouble."

"Trouble?" Helena scoffed. "Not a 'tall," she said and Myka couldn't help but stare at the lips that uttered words in that accent.

"Have you always been so British?" Myka's mouth delivered her inner most thought and then she stuttered to cover it up.

Helena was fully aware of how Americans fawned over her people's accent. "Since before I was born," she laughed, her eyes twinkling.

* * *

Helena was waffling between wanting to be in complete control of this situation, and wanting not to disturb what was happening. It was different, new, and she was rather enjoying it.

"I'm sorry," Myka blushed at her faux pas. "I'm not used to… this," she said, sweeping her hand across the room.

"The... mess?" Helena asked, noticing for the first time.

"No! No! Visiting a stranger's homes for a roooo… a dinner," Myka caught herself. "I don't get out much," she summed it up. "I mean, I get out…I don't work twenty-four seven, but I don't … this is beautiful," Myka forced herself to shut up and picked up a paperweight off the shelf. She seemed to notice how looking at Helena made it challenging to speak.

The hostess, who typically had zero tolerance for anyone who couldn't get their thoughts out concisely and coherently, suddenly found Myka's fumbling endearing. "Thank you," Helena said and didn't mean the compliment for the paperweight. She was really thanking her guest for being so adorable.

The silence that befell them as Helena stared made Myka very uncomfortable and she searched for something to say. Never a good tactic for the usually well-rehearsed agent. "I hope I didn't over dress," she said, bringing Helena's attention back to the fact that this dress accentuated her figure beautifully.

"No, not at all," Helena said slowly.

"I didn't really have anything but work clothes? So, I went out to find something a little dressier, but when I went into this store, the woman practically accosted me. I think she felt it was her civic duty to get me something more presentable," Myka laughed, but it was the truth.

"It's lovely," Helena said and meant how it looked on Myka. She was noticing how captivating Myka's smile was when she relaxed.

"Thank you," Myka blushed and wished she had kept the wrap on because she wanted to cover herself up. Being in the social limelight never made her feel comfortable.

"I say there's never an occasion where a little black dress won't do," Helena shared, trying to put her guest at ease.

Myka smiled, thinking of course Helena would know that. The woman was the very definition of class.

Again, quiet filled the space and Myka's mind raced to fill it with words. "I hope the wine is okay," she asked because her mouth was getting dry.

"The what?" Helena asked, because she'd forgotten. "Oh, of course, yes. Let me pour some," she said and rushed to open it in the kitchen.

Myka could hear drawers being slammed as the Brit tried to find the bottle opener. "Where the hell…," she heard her host ask more than once and she laughed to think the woman didn't seem to know her kitchen. She bit her lower lip as the yelling changed into grunting as Helena attempted to open the bottle. Minutes later, the door swung open and she appeared with two filled glasses.

"Here you go," Helena said, handing a glass to Myka as she sat in the living room. "Here's to…," the hostess proposed, "…dinner with strangers."

"Oh, not strangers. Did I say strangers?" Myka asked, cringing.

"Where did you buy your dress?" Helena segued.

"Oh, a store near the hotel. Uhm…Maxine's, I think," Myka replied. Myka sipped the wine, but it was big sips.

"I know that place. That woman is very insistent," Helena concurred.

Myka wasn't the only one who not used to such intimate gatherings. Helena, by nature, had no patience for the _getting to know you_ phase of relationships. She was quick to judge and so her style was more _love them and leave them_ … if there was a _them_ to begin with. She wasn't the smoothest operator when it came to people. But she was brilliant – and just smart enough to know _this_ was different. There was something very unusual about the woman whose green eyes enchanted her as they smiled over the glass of wine.

"Oh, I'll say," Myka laughed nervously. "I think she _threw_ these undergarments into the room at me," she laughed, not realizing the ' _do-tell'_ expression on Helena's face. "I mean, I walked in there hoping to just get an outfit, and I walked out with a hundred dollar garter belt!" Myka really thought it was funny, but now there was nowhere to go after that statement. Myka couldn't believe the disclosure came out of her mouth. She had just told another soul what she had on under her dress. The only gasp in the room came from her mouth.

But Helena saved the day when she acted very nonchalant and suggested that salespeople had power over them as shoppers, especially in the dressing room. Of course, as she said this, she unconsciously re-crossed her long legs, and leaned in closer. Oh, and bit her bottom lip.

Dead giveaways to any body language expert.

"I hope you're hungry," Helena heard herself say because she was suddenly feeling ravenous.

"Oh, yes," Myka replied, just glad the subject had changed. "I hope you didn't go to any trouble," she repeated.

"None. Now, let's go inside and I'll bring out the first course," Helena said, getting up and walking ahead of Myka.

Myka stared at the woman who walked gracefully in stiletto heels. "Oh," the hostess uttered when she realized what her young friend had done. Instead of attacking the mass of papers on the dining room table, she simply cleared off a smaller, rounder one and set that up. "Ah, yes, well, here we are," Helena announced and Myka wondered why she sounded so surprised. The two pace settings were set across from one another. Two candles, that the doctor didn't even realize she had, were lit and glowing. It certainly _looked_ romantic.

"Oh, how lovely," Myka said and saw the candles immediately.

"Yes, well I'll be right back," Helena said and went into the kitchen.

* * *

Helena wasn't sure if that table setting gave Myka the _wrong_ impression or the _right_ impression. "Get yourself together, Helena," the doctor said as she stuck her head in the fridge and pulled out the salads. She looked at the counter, trying to remember what was next and remembered the prepared chicken. "Low flame," she repeated Irene's instructions.

Of course, Irene _forgot_ to mention that she wanted Helena _IN_ the room when she turned the fire on.

Back inside, Helena placed the salad bowl down in front of Myka and put the other one by her setting. Sitting across the short distance now, she could almost feel how close their knees were under the small table.

"This is very good," Myka said, as she took small forkfuls of the mixed greens.

"Just a little something I whipped up in the kitchen," Helena lied, but only because she wasn't really thinking. Her mind was on that close proximity under the table.

"We don't often get to eat well when we're out on assignments, so home cooked meals are truly a treat," Myka shared.

"Yes," Helena said, getting lost in jade eyes that smiled. "Home cooked can be delicious," the Brit said.

"I don't often cook at home; do you?" Myka asked.

"Never," Helena answered and then tried to explain that she often worked late and was too tired when she got in.

"I have to say, Helena," Myka said slowly, "…that I was very impressed today when I witnessed the autopsy."

Helena was so used to people being impressed with her work that she didn't often even respond. She just smiled.

"I mean, Doctor Frederic told me later that many of the instruments you used in the procedure were actually your inventions. Some of them looked _very_ complicated," Myka said further as she continued to eat her salad.

Helena gazed over at the woman who was feeding her sincere compliments; whose green eyes reflected the flickering of the candle flames. The inventor meant to say how much she enjoyed creating things that made her job more efficient. But Myka's foot accidentally grazed Helena's and all thinking went off line.

"Thank you," Helena began. "Not all my devices are for the laboratory. I've actually created a few that can be used in the home; for more… enjoyable things."

And if that didn't catch Myka's attention, whose mind was guessing what room of the house the inventor was talking about, Helena added; "… some of my inventions are meant to _heighten_ the experience."

Myka was mid-swallow when Helena's innocent remark made her choke. A small crouton caught right in Myka's windpipe and Helena jumped up from the table and stood behind her. Within seconds, the doctor had her hands folded and pressed on Myka's abdomen, below her rib cage. The right amount of pressure expelled the food item right out onto Myka's plate.

"Oh, my God," Myka gasped to think this was the first time she was on a date where her life was saved instead of slowly drained away from her.

"Are you okay?" Helena said, helping Myka to sit back down. Helena's face was inches away from Myka and now, even though there was no obstruction, she still had trouble breathing.

"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for … being so quick," Myka said.

"Let me get you some water," Helena said, and instinctively pushed Myka's hair away from her face, before rushing to the kitchen to get the water.

The touch of Helena's hand seemed to leave a trail of heat on Myka's temple. "Steady, Myka," she said, gulping down the last of the wine in her glass.

* * *

The slow burn occurring in the dining room was almost as hot as the smoldering that had started in the kitchen. Helena was busy pouring water into a glass and looked around for what that odd odor could be when suddenly; the oil in the pan caught fire.

The next thing Helena knew, Myka was inside the room with her, turning the flame off and pouring the canister of salt on the pan and putting the fire out. Helena realized that while she was trying to figure out what to do, Myka sprang into action and possibly saved them from a fire.

"Thank you," Helena said, still a little stunned.

"Some first daa…diiinner," Myka said, almost catching herself. "I mean… saving each other before the main course."

Indeed, Myka; indeed.


	13. Here's Looking at You

**Here's Looking at You**

* * *

Myka and Helena stared at one another; neither able to remember a more exciting first dinner with someone where they saved each other from disaster.

"You're very quick," noted the Brit who was impressed with Myka's fast actions to put the fire out.

"I'm good at putting out fires," Myka shrugged and Helena frowned unconsciously because she wasn't sure that was possible. Every time those green eyes looked her way or that non-New York accent spoke, flames shot up inside.

"Really?" Helena said, her dark eyes smoldering hotter that the flame.

"I was… a Girl… Scout," Myka blushed as if that explained her quick actions.

"I bet you were," Helena blurted out, but meant it in a very different context. But now she was faced with the dilemma of a romantic dinner setting… and no dinner.

"Maybe we could start over?" Myka finally said, because the silence was killing her.

"Pardon me?" asked the woman who wanted to keep moving forward.

"Start over? I could clean this pan out and you could…start again?" Myka suggested and it took another second for it to dawn on the doctor that Myka was talking about food.

"Oh!" Helena said, catching on. "Yes, we have to eat," she smiled and Myka started to soak up the mess with paper towels and clean the pan.

The more questions she asked her host about where to put things, the more she realized Helena wasn't in this room very often. She thought it was sweet that Helena would go to such trouble.

* * *

An hour later, after passing one another closely in the small kitchen as they maneuvered making the meal, Helena and Myka carried their dishes into the dining room.

"This is really good!" Myka said because she was certain the Brit never cooked.

"It is; isn't it?" Helena noted, equally impressed.

The woman enjoyed their meal and talked about how they arrived at their present positions.

"I was pre-law, pre-med," Myka confessed. "Then, I just decided I liked the scope of being in the Secret Service. I mean, I work for the President."

Helena decided she could listen to Myka for hours; which was a high compliment considering how much she detested how most people spoke. She asked question after question, just to keep her guest talking. She learned Myka was from Colorado, where her parents and sister still lived.

"I thought I was going to be a writer," Helena confessed. "It's sort of in the genes."

"My favorite story in the whole world was an HG Wells story," Myka gushed.

"He was rather talented," Helena agreed of her ancestor. "I guess I get my creative side from my father's side of the family."

"I've read about your inventions," Myka fawned. "I mean, they're amazing."

"Thank you," Helena said, which Myka didn't know, but it was rare for her to thank anyone who noted her brilliance. After all, it was all rather a given.

* * *

Dinner was slowly consumed as if both women were trying to slow down time. Myka insisted on clearing the table with her host and wouldn't stop when Helena insisted she shouldn't do the dishes.

' _Impeccable manners_ ,' Helena noted.

' _That voice_!' is all Myka could think.

Helena offered dessert, and even though Myka was very full, she accepted because she didn't want the night to end. The quizzical look on Helena's face immediately told her guest that she was clueless as to _what_ dessert was.

"Damn Irene," Helena said under her breath because she had instructed the woman to write things down.

"I saw a pie in the fridge," Myka offered. Now, there wasn't another human alive who helped Helena and lived to tell the tale.

"Pie?" Helena said because she never ate it. "Yes, of course," she said and opened the door. Right on top of the apple pie box was a container of whip cream. "Do you…?" Helena asked as she turned and showed it to Myka.

Myka wasn't aware of where her mind was going as she watched Helena's form bent over, but the question threw her as if Helena had just read her mind.

"Me? Noooo," Myka said, the red rushing to her cheeks so quickly that Helena thought perhaps her guest was on a diet.

"As your doctor, I'm sure a little wouldn't hurt," Helena smiled.

" _My_ doctor?" Myka asked slowly and now it was Helena who blushed ever so slightly.

"Well, not _your_ …," Helena said.

"No, that's fine. I mean, you are a doctor…," Myka tried to help.

Helena stood there with the box in one hand and the whip cream in the other as her mind wandered quickly.

"Uhm, do you have a knife for that?" Myka finally asked.

* * *

If Claudia Donovan was there, she would have screamed at how they kept tripping over each other. In fact, she was the one who insisted on the topping for the pie.

"Are you teaching her how to make dessert?" she had asked Irene on the way there.

"Are you serious? I have to go to work in the morning," Irene answered.

"What did you get her then?" the younger woman asked.

"I got pie. _Everyone_ likes pie," Irene declared.

"Helena hates it," Claudia pointed out.

"If you do a job well, Ms. Donovan, they'll continue to ask you to do it," Irene pointed out.

"Ohhh," said her protégé. "I'll have to remember that at work." She then ran to the store and procured the whipped cream container.

"What is that for?" Irene asked seriously.

"If you need to ask, I'm not telling you," the younger woman informed her.

* * *

Now the Brit took both items into the dining room and started to cut the pie. Myka was about to ask for a small piece, but changed her mind and simply smiled when the woman, who used a scalpel for a living, had trouble with the knife.

"Here we go," Helena said, finally getting the piece out of the box. She looked at instructions on the tall can of cream and shook vigorously. "Shall I?"

That accent, draped over those two words, was enough to make the agent allow Helena to do anything.  
"Please," Myka said.

She put the plate closer for Helena to depress the nozzle and put some whip cream on the top.

Unfortunately, the woman who could handle most mechanical things couldn't seem to handle the spout on the can. She pressed it harder than she needed to and didn't aim well.

The confectionery substance shot out … missing the pie completely and hitting Myka.

It was hard to say who was more surprised, but it was easy to see who was covered, as Myka's black dress was suddenly covered in white.


	14. Focusing

**Focusing**

* * *

The woman who knew how to get blood and bile out of her own clothing stared momentarily, but soon enough, sprang into action. She grabbed the cloth napkin and dipped it into water, fully aware that the longer the fat content in the cream saturated the fabric, the worse it would stain. She fell on her knees next to Myka and began to wipe the cream off of the dress – directly over Myka's breasts.

"Oh, God," Myka said and would have gently pushed Helena's skillful hands away, but hers were clenched to the chair beneath her, to hold her steady.

"I'm so sorry," Helena said, completely unaware that her wiping off the substance felt very much like stroking. _Intimate_ … _slow_ … _steady_ …. stroking.

"No," Myka said and bit her bottom lip.

"We'll have to take it off," Helena said, getting back up and pulling Myka firmly out of the chair. "Turn around," she instructed and Myka didn't have a choice. Within seconds, Myka felt the zipper descend as cool air hit her body that was close to feverish.

"I can't…," Myka said, but Helena pulled it straight down and was telling her to step out of it. Dark eyes looked up at Myka as Helena bent over to help. "Oh, my God," Myka said and did as she was told. The action meant that the black stockinged leg passed right in front of Helena.

 _That_ …caught her attention.

"Oh," she said slowly. "You…," she pointed because her brain went off line.

"Do you have a robe?" Myka asked.

"A robe?" Helena asked and her tone was _why the bloody hell would you want a robe_ , but she realized why when she caught sight of the hundred dollar garter belt. "Yes! Of course. In there," Helena said and stepped out of the way as Myka rushed to the bedroom. Helena looked down at the dress and back at the bedroom door. "Bloody hell," she said as she made her way to the kitchen.

* * *

The problem for Helena was, once she got there, she wasn't sure what to do. She called her friend.

Doctor Frederic and Claudia Donovan had stopped blocks away for a quick bite. They had concluded their discussion of what the date might be like when the elder woman said – for the tenth time – that it was _none of their business_. "But..," Claudia had tried, but Irene didn't budge.

Until her phone rang.

"Oh, Lord," Irene said when she saw Helena trying to Face Time her. "What could she…?" she was wondering when Claudia grabbed the phone. She wanted to hear how the date went because it must have been a disaster if she was calling _so_ early.

"Hey, Doc," Claudia said and was met with a scowl that didn't frighten her because Helena didn't know where she was.

"Where is Irene?" Helena whispered and Claudia put her face up to the camera to see what the woman was holding.

"Is… _that_ …Agent Bering's…dress?" Claudia asked and pulled back to look at her friend.

Irene grabbed the phone, but Claudia had extended her hands and was motioning a victory dance. "Go, Helena; it's your birthday," the younger woman chanted and Irene glared at her.

"Helena," Irene said and now she, too, wondered what her friend was doing.

"Whose idea was the bloody whipped cream?" Helena demanded to know, but she was still whispering.

"Who do you think?" Irene asked.

"Well, it shot all over my dinner guest!" Helena informed them and now Claudia's eyes were like saucers.

"How did she? You just…," Claudia said, making the hand motions that showed how the container worked.

"You might have wanted to tell her that," Irene scolded the young friend.

"She's an inventor? I thought maybe she could handle a nozzle," Claudia said in her defense. Then she couldn't help but say; "And actually that was kinda the idea."

"Would you two focus!" said the woman on the other side of that phone. "I need to know how to get it out of this," Helena said, holding up the dress.

Irene didn't mean to fumble the phone, but the sight of the dress, with no one in it, made her wonder nervously where Myka was. Now, the younger woman was hysterical and was banging the diner's table, trying to catch her breath.

"Oh…my…God….," Claudia said and no matter how sternly Irene looked at her, she couldn't stop. She was horizontal in the booth laughing.

"Helena," Irene said, getting very serious. "Where is Agent Bering?"

"She's inside, looking for a robe," Helena said, thinking this was a total waste of time. "Now, do you, or do you not, know how to get whipped cream out of this dress?"

"Helena, I think it's going to have to be dry cleaned," Irene said and now she kicked Claudia under the table because the youth couldn't stop.

"I'm going to fire her first thing tomorrow," Helena informed Irene of their coworker.

"I don't blame you," Irene replied. "Whatever you do…," she tried to say, but the phone went blank.

"I hope she doesn't put that in water," Irene shuddered at what that would do to an expensive dress.

* * *

Helena shook her head, wondering why she ever became friends with such useless individuals. She looked around and decided that the blue dishwashing liquid – that was bought but not opened – was used on oil slicked animals in the commercials. "That will have to do," Helena said, putting a long strand into the sink with cold water and dunking the dress. "You soak," she instructed the inanimate object.

Then, she walked back into the living room and did what she always did to calm herself. She quoted people she believed to be almost as smart as she was.

" _I live in solitude which is painful in youth, but delicious in the years of maturity_ ," Helena quoted as she considered recusing herself from _all_ friendships.

Someone else might have asked Helena if she were lonely, but the woman who was quietly stealing her heart, responded: "Albert Einstein."

"Yes!" Helena said, grateful someone would know. Most of her reciting received blank stares.

Myka now stood there with the satin robe wrapped around her, secured at her waist, but not so tightly that it didn't open at the top when she moved.

"I'm more of an _H.G. Wells_ kind of girl, myself," Myka laughed because she feared it sounded like she was trying to impress her host.

"Are you now?" Helena asked, suddenly finding that tidbit of self-disclosure very enticing.

" _Beauty is in the heart of the beholder_ ," Myka quoted her favorite. "Oh, hey, I hope it's okay that I put this on," she said, gently pulling at the robe.

"Of course," Helena said, fully aware of what her guest was wearing beneath that. "I do apologize for …," she tried, but Myka wouldn't hear about it.

Myka's tongue ceased working and her brain went on a completely different track. She wanted to say something humorous to break the intense silence that was building up between the two as Helena smiled deliciously back. In that earnest attempt, Myka blurted out;

"I never guessed you'd get me out of my clothes this fast!"

Oh, it could have been funny. It could have been just the thing to say so that two nervous women who were getting to know one another could share a laugh.

But Helena Wells wasn't nervous; she was entirely – _charmed_. And totally interested.

And having that high an IQ focused on you…was like being undressed by a laser. Helena never skipped a beat and asked;

"How long _exactly_ did you think it would take me?"


End file.
